


Caffeine With a Side of Domestication

by pricemactavish



Series: The Coffee Shop AU [2]
Category: Call of Duty
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Soap and Price are horny bastards
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-16
Updated: 2014-03-22
Packaged: 2018-01-13 04:17:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 62,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1212367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pricemactavish/pseuds/pricemactavish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>*Sequel to 'RSASS and Shine'*</p><p>Soap MacTavish. Resident barista at RSASS and Shine, Hereford's number one coffee shop, also, a man living in a real life romantic comedy, filled with loveable (sort of) idiot friends, a cat, and the boonie hat sporting man that stole his heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Operation: Boil and Brew

**Author's Note:**

> (If you haven't read the first part, 'RSASS and Shine', I recommend you do so first. Otherwise, a lot of the details spread throughout this story won't make much sense.)
> 
> welp - here's the sequel, it will contain multiple chapters, unlike 'RSASS and Shine'. Expect /copious/ amounts of fluff and sex. Maybe some fluffy animals and random appearances. Also, I'm the worst when it comes to MW references, those will show up at random times. I tagged the characters that will be featured in later chapters, if you read the first part then you know Ghost and Roach will show up quite a lot.
> 
> Oh and please forgive the horrible edit I made. >_>

  
  


Things in Soap's life hadn't changed much. There was still work that needed to be done at the coffee shop, idiot friends to deal with, a cat to feed, and a boyfriend to spend time with and kiss whenever he wanted to.  
  
Oh, wait. Maybe things had changed. A lot.  
  
And damn, it was good.  
  
  
Love had impacted Soap's life in ways he never thought possible. Every day seemed brighter and beautiful. It was like living in one those overrated romantic comedies that Ghost would never openly admit to watching, and waking up in Price's arms was definitely the best way to start the day.  
  
  
RSASS and Shine was doing great. Excellent, actually. The addition of teas to the menu had brought in sudden uprising in customers, making him and his two best friends, Ghost and Roach, busier than ever before, and when those two weren't busy with spontaneous make-out sessions in the middle of shifts, they actually did their bloody jobs and served some customers. Not that Soap was blaming Roach for that one, that was completely on his boyfriend's shoulders. Simon goddamn Riley. A sneaking suspicion settled in Soap that some of the younger customers came in just to watch them make out, perhaps they should consider charging for that or leave out a special tip jar.

  
It was a struggle in the very beginning for Soap to get a hang of the whole tea mixing process. Much to his reluctant admittance, he was new to the tea thing. A "herbal virgin", as Ghost referred to him. His friend was nearly sporting a bruised arm for that one if it wasn't for Roach ushering him out of the room with a more than suggestive smile and tug on the front of the man's jeans. What would he do without that guy? Fuck. He shuddered at the thought of life before Roach came along to tame the self proclaimed, 'wild Riley', of course he still was wild and annoying as ever, but at least Roach could shut him up before it became too much.  
  
But the tea. An unknown enemy. Coffee, obviously, and plain water are staples in Soap's diet, as was the occasional lager or shot of whiskey. Tea though? He'd never even taken a drink of the stuff. Meaning, Ghost wasn't too far off with the "herbal virgin" comment. Bastard. Oh well, at least he had his more than helpful boyfriend, who happened to be an _expert_ on the subject, to lend him a hand. Mostly with the tea. Sort of.  
  
  
  
One week after Price and Soap officially got together, post the snowy confession, not just of feelings, but of Price not even liking coffee in the first place, and the weak-knee inducing kiss that most likely will remain the best moment in his life for a long while, Soap tried his best at making tea. After all, he had made a guarantee to his..favorite customer.  
  
  
Before taking on the high priority mission known only as 'Operation: Boil and Brew', Price and him went shopping at the market close to their homes for tea together. It was the simplest and most delightfully domestic thing, but doing that ordinary and everyday task made Soap unbelievably overjoyed, though he contained it to the best of his abilities. He couldn't wait to do this with him forever. It became obvious to himself that he was as sentimental and sappy as Ghost always said, he couldn't deny it at this point, nor could he find himself wanting to. Everything was so new and exciting being with Price, yet it felt like they'd been together for years, as if they always were in each other's life..it was that comfortable, that natural.  
  
  
Inside the market, Price pushed the cart while Soap walked as close to him as possible, his hands drifted to Price's back, longing to go lower, but he resisted, given the fact that they were in very public eye. Normally Soap wouldn't give a damn, hell, not even a quarter of a damn, but still, not the best idea to grab ass in the middle of the produce section, he settled on resting his palm just above it instead, hooking a few fingers into Price's belt loop.  
  
  
"Don't think I haven't noticed your hand getting lower this entire time." Price said, shooting a smirk in his direction as they past a display of Hobnobs, Soap was unable to resist sneaking a package off the shelf and placing it in the cart with a sheepish look.  
  
  
Soap grinned, but didn't remove his hand, and instead, snaked it up to Price's hip. "And here I thought I was being subtle."  
  
  
"Subtle, right. If that's what you were going for, I suggest you work on it." Price said dryly, a smile in his eyes.  
  
  
"Work on it, as in...putting my hands on you in public more often? In a slightly discreet matter, of course."  
  
  
"You can be as indiscreet with me as you'd like." Price responded, his smirk was getting out of hand, but that's the one Soap loved, always had from that first day they met, when they were just Soap and 141, and always would. An older woman carted past them at the exact moment Price spoke and gave them both a look, dirty and on the verge of sneering, her eyes slit. Soap returned the snobbish expression and moved his hand lower again, laughing quietly as the lady sped up with her rickety cart to get out of their sight, Price joined in with a deep, throaty chuckle, only making Soap's laughter level increase.  
  
  
"Ah, maybe we should work on what kind of PDA is OK.." Soap said, looking over at Price after his laughter died down with a crooked, half-smile.  
  
  
Price shrugged and gave him a wink. "Didn't bother me."  
  
  
Soap nodded in agreement, at least they weren't making out in the biscuits and crisps aisle, that, he would leave to Ghost and Roach..as much as the idea was tempting.  
  
  
They turned to an aisle, teas of all varieties covered the shelves, top to bottom. What kind of store had an entire aisle dedicated to tea? The colors blurred in his mind, scattering in his vision like a kaleidoscope of the leafy sort. "Um, wow." Soap said as he looked across all the rows, mouth gaped open. He drifted from the side of the cart to walk towards the mass display, fingers touching the front of several boxes.  
  
  
"Suppose it is a little intimidating." Price said with a lift of his shoulders and moved next to Soap, placing an arm around his waist.  
  
  
"A little? Price, this is like..a whole new level of mass hysteria I am facing in my head." Soap picked up a box and read the label. " _'White_ tea with ginger and honey'?" He glanced over to Price, his brows lifted, lines creased in his forehead. "I thought there was only green tea and black tea? Why the bloody hell is there so many different kinds?"  
  
  
Price seemed more than amused by Soap's fretting, but hid it to the best of his abilities. "There's black tea, green tea, white tea, yellow tea, herbal tea, oolong tea. Even more than that."  
  
Soap's eyes widened with each new type of tea. "Oolong? What in the world is that?"  
  
  
"It's sort of like a black tea, kind of earthy, really rich taste."  
  
  
Soap crinkled his nose and pulled up his top lip in disgust. "OK, since when does something 'earthy' sound like it'd taste good?"  
  
  
Price chuckled and kissed Soap's cheek, the younger man flushed subtly in response, never really over the sweet gestures. "It is..an acquired taste. Never said it was my favorite."  
  
  
"What is then? I'll have to make it the 141 special." Soap said with a smile, nudging into the other man's side.  
  
  
Price zoned out on the smile for a second, before he turned his head back to the shelves, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing circles on Soap's waist.  
  
  
"Call me predictable, but Earl Grey is always the best." Price picked up a box from the shelf and tossed it in the cart. "But...Scottish Breakfast Tea is pretty good too." He glanced sideways at Soap.  
  
  
"Please, I know you're only saying that because you like Scottish men." Still, Soap plucked a box of Scottish Breakfast Tea off the shelf and put it in the cart, feeling exceptionally un-Scottish haven't not tried the stuff before.  
  
  
"Got me there, I do like Scottish men." He nodded once, then smiled cheekily over to Soap. "Love one of them, though." Price pulled him closer.  
  
  
Aw, fuck. Apparently Price was going for a new record, see how many times he could make Soap feel like he could literally swoon in one day. He was two for two now.  
  
  
Soap laughed off the comment, even though his insides were turning to goo. "I, uh, hear there's a Scot who's pretty crazy about you too." Soap affirmed, Price responded by lowering his hand, now positioned directly above his ass. The younger man swallowed hard and shot a look in Price's direction. "And you implied that _I_ was trying to get fresh in the market, but here you are, sweet talking me and getting handsy." Price's smile only grew, Soap shook his head with a laugh and turned his attention back to the shelves and not on the rough palm on his lower back, even though he now knew exactly how those hands feel on his unclothed body, and the flashes of images filling his mind were thoroughly distracting. They certainly were making up for all those weeks of slow building sexual tension.  
  
  
They walked down the aisle together towards the more..unique varieties, Soap paused at one. "Watermelon tea..? What the shite. Who drinks watermelon tea?" Soap plucked the box off the shelf and shook it, the plastic lined packets on the inside clacked around, he brought it closer to his nose and sniffed. It was strong enough to smell through the box..and it smelt pretty damn good, like warm summer days and picnics. Soap inwardly mocked his damn near pretentious sounding description.  
  
  
"I wouldn't knock that stuff, that would be mate Gaz's favorite. Believe it or not, it was pretty good, odd as it sounds."  
  
  
Soap remembered a conversation they had not too long ago and arched a brow. "What is it with Gaz and watermelons? I recall you telling me about shooting up his watermelon after losing a contest."

"I never should have told you that..." Price muttered under his breath. "You'll never forget that, will you?"

"Nope. Seriously, what about Gaz and watermelons?" Soap asked again.  
  
  
"Mm, he's a..connoisseur of the fruit. To say the least."  
  
  
"Ah, ok. The least is all you need to say, I never heard of a watermelon enthusiast. You know, I can't wait to met this friend of yours."  
  
  
"You might regret that, he's a cheeky bastard." Price warned.  
  
  
"Hah, you have met Ghost, right? No one could be worse than him." Soap said with a smirk.  
  
  
"Now that you bring it up, the two of them would probably hit it off wonderfully." Price's eyes darted about, looking a bit worried.  
  
  
"Oh dear god, forget I said anything."  Soap pressed a chaste kiss to Price's mouth and propped his hands on his hips. "Let's round up some more tea and head out, eh?"  
  
  
Soap made a feeble attempt to pay for the items himself, but Price cut him off with a short laugh and a wave of his hand to which Soap responded with a resigned sigh and pout. It seemed he couldn't _always_ get his way with Price, at least not when it came to purchasing things, he remembered how hard it had been to refuse a large tip and offer to pay for a coffee. Price was ever the gentleman..but Soap knew there was something decidedly more mischievous and naughty hidden under that chivalrous demeanor. He _knew_ it now. While they waited in line, Soap stood next to Price, they both watched box after box being wrung up and Soap wondered if he'd ever be able to sneakingly pay for dinner one evening, a smile tugged at the edge of his lips, highly doubting it. A date. That reminded him, they hadn't even had a real, out on the town, date yet. Hm.  
  
  
They finished up the shopping trip, leaving the store with a cart full of dozens of tea varieties, most Soap felt like he'd never understand. This was going to be a long evening.  
  
  
  
  
Arms full of overloaded grocery bags, they climbed steps to Price's house. It was a small place on the outside, quaint and very homey looking, white with dark brown trimmings.

  
Price did an impressive balancing act with his share of bags and unlocked the front door, lightly kicking it open and dipping his head in the direction of it for Soap to enter first. Of course.  
  
  
"Did you, uh, just breach your front door?" Soap looked over at him, amused smile on his played on his lips.

Price rolled his shoulders and gave a short nod, he was practically smoldering Soap with his eyes. "Depends..did it impress you?" Price answered with a gruff tone, further making Soap suppress a open swoon.  
  
  
"Aye, sure did. Seems you're still full of surprises." Soap said with a laugh and stepped inside before stopping to turn around and face Price. "I'm serious, dunno if I'll ever get used to someone opening the door for me..."  
  
  
"I can't help myself.." Price said with an upturn of his lips, voice low and gravely making Soap exhale a bit louder than he intended..almost like a happy sigh.  
  
  
"One day, I'll get the door for you." Soap promised with a wink before he turned back around to enter the house, Price following directly behind him.  
  
  
"We'll see about that." Of course he was smirking. When was he not?  
  
  
Soap moved through the main hallway and gazed about the house, still trying to memorize every detail. It felt comforting being here, like it was already home. He wanted to kick off his boots and splay himself out on the couch, lay on Price, if it weren't for other matters. The inside of Price's place was surprisingly modern, in contrast to its worn, but charming exterior. Well, at least the kitchen was. The two of them walked down the hall and turned into the kitchen. You could tell by the shiny new appliances, chocolate maple cabinets, and dark granite counter that Price loved his kitchen. A lot. A bonafide foodie his boyfriend was indeed. _His boyfriend_. Damn, it felt good to know that was a fact.  
  
  
Soap couldn't even take a guess at what half of the appliances in that kitchen did. One of them looked like a torture device, but Price assured him that it was simply a pasta making machine. He'd trusted Price, so he'd have to take his word for it.  
  
  
They dumped the grocery bags on the counter and began to empty them. Each new box that found its way into Soap's hand increased his anxiety, he bit at his bottom lip.  
  
  
"You know, you don't have to do this." Price told him. He noticed the nervous vibes rolling off the younger man, so he placed a hand on Soap's lower back and began doing gentle stroking motions for a few seconds before returning back to unpacking.  
  
  
"A little late for that, don't you think?" Soap asked, arching his scarred brow. "If I stopped now, you'd have enough tea to pass down to our future grandchildren. And by grandchildren I mean cats, of course. Hellraiser's kittens. And theirs. Shite..maybe even further along than that." Soap mumbled quickly, too engrossed in his worry to realize he voiced a very private thought, out loud.  
  
Price, however, did notice, and stopped unloading the bags altogether to stare over at Soap.  
  
"Besides..I want to do this. I think it would be good for the shop, we need to bring in some new customers.." Soap carried on, tossing the last box on the counter top. Finally, he turned his head and met Price's stare. He knew it would probably take some time to be able to figure out what every look in Price's eyes meant..but right now they were a little shiny and the corner of his mouth was turned up, it was a soft expression and a fond looking one, but something must be behind the glowing of his eyes. Soap let out a airy laugh. "Um..why're staring at me like that?" He asked.  
  
  
Price snapped out of the daze and coughed. "Just thinking how fantastic your arse looks in those pants of yours. There's a reason why I insist you go through the door first, not only for chivalrous reasons." Price said with smirk.  
  
  
Soap rolled his eyes and scoffed a laugh, tapping his finger on a box in front of him. "Oh, I believe that...A+ subject changing, you're good at it." He retorted sarcastically.  
  
  
"Whether you choose to believe me or not is your prerogative." Price looked away from Soap and examined the large collection of boxes before them. He let out a whistle. "Do you think it was necessary for us to buy this much, Soap?"  
  
  
"Hey, I offered to pay. Three times, in fact. At least for the biscuits..." Soap said, scratching at the back of his neck, suddenly feeling a little guilty.  
  
  
Price frowned and draped an arm around Soap's waist. "It's not that, at all..it's the fact that you claim to have no experience with tea making and yet you want to jump right into it with 30 or so varieties. You could take it slower, ease into it."  
  
  
Soap leaned into Price's arm and ran a hand through his mohawk. "Been there, done that." Soap mumbled, remembering how long it took for the two of them to get together. "And what can I say, I'm an ambitious man. And maybe a little mad."  
  
  
"That you are." Price agreed, a fond smile crossed his mouth.  
  
  
"You know you love it." Soap rested a hand on Price's hip and kissed him soundly on the lips, trying not to linger too long. He pulled away but kept his hand in place. "OK, so I need my apron, helps me focus, and..that pot thing." Soap stated, finding his favorite camo apron on the edge of the counter and looping the neck strap over his head and tying it.  
  
  
"Sorry, what?" Price looked utterly baffled, adjusting the hat atop his head.  
  
  
"Can't think of the bloody name..." Soap made a few hand motions in the air to try and convey the object. "The thing that boils the water." He said with a snap of his fingers.

  
"A tea kettle. It's a tea kettle, Soap." Price corrected, blinking at him.  
  
  
"Fuck. This is already starting out wonderfully." Soap crossed his arms and let out a frustrated sigh.  
  
  
Price gave him an encouraging smile. "If it helps, I believe in you. I know you can do it."

  
The man's words blossomed a new burst of confidence in him.  
  
  
"It does."  
  
  
"Good." Price squeezed him closer again and brushed his nose into Soap's cheek. "I'll retrieve the 'thing that boils water'." His voice was low, hitting Soap's ears in the most delicious way, unfairly distracting him from getting peeved at Price's light jib.  
  
  
Price removed his arm from Soap and grabbed the silver tea kettle from the stove top, he began to walk to the sink to fill it up but Soap quickly intercepted, taking the kettle from his hands.  
  
  
"Ah, I've got this, Price."  
  
  
Soap, as much as he knew he would regret it, tried to usher Price out of the kitchen so he could give his best attempt at tea making. Alone.  
  
  
"Soap..tea is my thing. If I didn't teach military history, I could very well instruct in the art of tea. Tea leaves, tea drinks, tea cookies. _Tea_." Price protested while Soap filled the pot and placed it on the burner, setting the heat to medium.  
  
  
"Which is exactly why I have to figure this out on my own. I can't rely on my boyfriend to help me with everything. Fixing my door, buying me journals.."  
  
  
"Giving you some bloody pointers with brewing tea is hardly everything. And besides..I want to help you, love."  
  
  
That was the first time Price said the term of endearment, right there in the middle of his kitchen. Soap can still remember how strongly his heart thudded in his chest and how warm the word made him feel on the inside, spreading from his heart and filling the rest of him with a feeling like no other.  
  
  
"What was that?" Soap asked quietly, abandoning the kettle to face Price who was leaned on the counter behind him. "And don't even try to change the subject." He added before it was too late.  
  
  
"It slipped out. If it made you uncomfortable, then.." Price began.  
  
  
Soap couldn't believe he was seeing Price..nervous once again. He previously assumed it was rare to impossible to see the older, confidant man like that, but it seems he was just as capable of it as everyone else and Soap cherished that little fact.  
  
  
Soap shook his head and walked over to Price, taking his hands in his own and pressing a kiss to the man's left knuckle. "Say it again."  
  
  
"Love?" Price repeated, smoother this time, drawn out.  
  
  
"Bloody hell." Soap sighed out a quiet noise of approval and kissed Price fully on the lips, wrapping his arms around his neck. The older man's hands found their way to Soap's face, cupping it on either side, holding their lips together.  
  
  
Soap pulled away slightly breathless a few, long moments later and asked, "Does this mean I should start calling you baby or darling? Because I'm ok with that..something I thought I'd never say, I must confess."  
  
  
"Soap didn't you once admit you were a hopeless romantic?" Price said while he lifted a hand and fixed a stray piece of Soap's mohawk before flicking his eyes back to meet the the other man's stare.  
  
  
"I did. What's your point?"  
  
  
"That you can't tell me you don't say those sappy bloody names."  
  
  
"Fine, I do. Never admitted it aloud before, I meant. And you never answered my question."  
  
  
Price chuckled and replied, "I'm partial to love, but either of those options are fine."  
  
  
"You're only partial to 'love' because you're a charming, English bastard." Soap kissed said bastard once more and reluctantly pulled away.  
  
  
"Mm..you might be right about that...love."  
  
  
"Come on, now you're doing it on purpose."  
  
  
"You may have noticed I can tease a bit.."  
  
  
"Price.... _darling_..I've had sex with you, I know you're a sodding tease all too well. Or, alternatively, not well enough."  
  
  
"We could improve your knowledge on this subject..if you'd like."  
Enter sexy professor mode again. Damn.  
  
  
"You bet your arse I would." Soap murmured and made the move to meet Price half-way for another heated kiss, but his gaze fell on the large supply of boxes on the counter and was swiftly reminded of his mission. " _Tea_." Was all Soap said. The word was enough for Price to ease his face away from Soap's. There was a considerable gap between their faces now that caused a pout to flash on the younger man's mouth, but he had a job to do. There was always time for this later. Plenty of it, yet, never enough.  
  
  
"Bollocks, and here I'm supposed to be the focused professor."  
  
  
"Exactly. Come on, Pri..you need to stop distracting me with your ruggedly handsome good looks and impossibly raspy voice. How am I ever to complete this mission if you've got your hands all over me?" Soap accused him jokingly, although it was his hands that were actually moving across Price's back, feeling the ridges of muscle, coaxing the other man closer.  
  
  
"Right, like this is all my doing."  
  
  
"It is." Soap confirmed with a nod, causing a smirking grin to show up on Price's features.  
  
  
The older man removed his hands and leaned against the counter, arms crossed against his dark green button up shirt clad chest. "Get to work then, Soap." He said with a wave of his hand.  
  
  
He never looked more like a commanding professor captain than in this very moment, Soap swallowed hard. This was going to be a challenge. Not the tea making, but the not getting Price to fuck him on the grey stoned floor of the kitchen part.  
  
  
10 minutes later, under the scrutinizing eyes of Price, he completed a cup of tea.  
  
  
"Ok...try this." Soap pushed the mug of Earl Grey towards Price.  
  
  
Price lifted the cup to his mouth and took a sip, his nose crinkled up, but he quickly recovered. The silence lasted 5 heart beats.  
  
  
"....You - uh? You gonna say something?" Soap asked, trying not to read into the facial cues on Price's face too much.  
  
  
"That's...fine."  
  
  
Soap eyed him, brow raised and mouth pressed in a thin line. "Come on, Price. I need constructive criticism here. Tell me what's good, what's bad, what needs changing. All that. This is why you stayed, remember?" That and seeing Price's face was good for his moral. Right.  
  
  
Price sighed. "It's bitter. Very." He managed to say, swallowing down the harsh liquid.  
  
  
"Shite, I never should have tried to make your favorite...I'm hopeless, aren't I?" Soap muttered, reaching for the package of Hobnobs, opening it, and began to slowly chew on one, he was a stress eater, if Price didn't take this package from him, he'd eat the entire thing in one sitting - or nervous pacing in the kitchen.  
  
  
"No. You've never made tea before, that's all. Earl Grey is a tricky one. You don't want to over brew it, the taste can be a little overpowering that way. A good Earl Grey needs a three minute steep, not a second over." Price instructed, doing ridiculous hand gestures in the process.  
  
  
"And you didn't tell me this because?" Soap asked, mouth full of biscuit, feeling slightly exasperated.  
  
  
"Because you told me you wanted to do this on your own, remember?"  
  
  
"Fair enough. Alright, let me give it another go." Soap slapped his hands together to shake off the crumbs. "This time, I'll blow your mind." He guaranteed, pressing a kiss to his lips. He was silently thankful that Price wasn't like Ghost, he knew his friend would make countless sexual jokes at that one, although he must be similar to him..since he was thinking it all the whole time he said it. The look in Price's eyes suggested that he knew exactly what that sentence implied.

  
Price rubbed a comforting hand down Soap's back. "Soap...why don't you try make up your own special blend instead of doing something typical? Creativity is where you shine, love. You turned a basic, flat espresso into something layered and complex..vanilla, your famous Scottish Cream..it's huge in Hereford. All because of your ideas, your creations." Price encouraged, another kiss was left on the side of the younger man's face, so was a hand, stroking down the side of his stubbled cheek.  
  
  
Soap pondered for a moment, Price had a point, he never had been good with restrictions or following directions, too boring. He couldn't fight the smile that crossed his mouth, his boyfriend knew him well, even better than himself sometimes.  
  
  
"Aye, but I'm not sure if mum's Scottish cream recipe would work here...vanilla-butterscotch and almond-cream with tea? Mmm, I can work magic with beverages, but not _that_ much. Anyways, you're on point..I need to think of something all my own instead of reading box directions..that might've been why I wrecked that first cup."  
  
  
"I wouldn't say wrecked...." Price mumbled, picking at the dog tag on Soap's neck, not looking the younger man in the eyes.  
  
  
"Priiice." Soap drawled with a huff of breath, his booted foot tapping on the tile floor.  
  
  
Price simply laughed in response and ran a hand through the other man's mohawk, taking care not to mess up the specially styled locks. "Go on, get those creative juices flowing. I'll be over there, being a boring professor with my paperwork, not disturbing you." His eyebrows rose in amusement with the last words.  
  
  
"Boring professor, uh huh, sure." Soap said, rolling his eyes and pecking Price one last time on the lips, giving a nod to the stool at the kitchen bar. "Ok then, we both have a jobs here. Good luck with the test grading.."  
  
  
"Good luck with the mad scientist experimenting."

  
"So what, you're the boring professor and I'm the mad scientist?"

  
"Pretty good pairing, I think."

  
"Too right."  
  
  
Price gave him one last encouraging smile and headed off to the bar table, both of them parting with small chuckles at the silly nicknames. Soap didn't know where Price got the idea in his head that he's a boring professor, he shook his head at the impossible notation, Price was more like a charming, sexy, funny, sweet, caring, damn motivating captain of his heart. Boring was the last thing that came to mind, Ghost would beg to differ though, calling them both 'boring old farts'. If he only knew what they got up to in private..thankfully he doesn't.  
  
  
  
Now in a renewed state-of-mind, he returned to the counter toppled with boxes a gave them a good look over, analyzing flavor combinations in his mind. Creative...creative. Hm. Vanilla-caramel with passion fruit? Not _that_ out of the box. Price apparently favored the more simple brews, Earl Grey straight up, peach tea, black tea with a wedge of lemon. Looks like it was time to break out the ol' MacTavish mix up and get him into something...new.

That was what inspired him.  
  
  
Two experimental brews later, Soap perfected a cup of black tea fused with raspberry-blueberry, hint of cherry and mint, feeling more natural in his own element of making creative combos.  
  
  
Soap called Price over, eager to show him his creation, "Ok, prepare yourself for our love in a cup." Soap announced proudly, placing the cup in the other man's hands.  
  
  
Price arched a brow, a playful grin on the edge of his lips, "'Our love in a cup'? Is that to be the official name?"  
  
  
"Might need to work on that one..just give me a little time to think it over." Soap replied, rubbing the back of his neck. "Still was the inspiration though, our love."  
  
  
"Well, let's see what the tea equivalent of our love tastes like." Price took a drink, as soon as the liquid hit his tongue, his eyebrows snapped up. "Hmm..now that's good. Bloody fantastic. I...actually can taste...the love." Price sipped it again, humming into the mug.  
  
  
"M9tea11."  
  
  
"M9tea11? Bloody hell, where do you come up with these names?"  
  
  
"'Our love in a cup' doesn't fit our shop's theme exactly, so what is something that signifies it pretty well? M1911. We both love that gun, and when I was drawing it at work that day..we had the first, date-like conversation. Fits, I think." Soap said with a shrug.  
  
  
A warm smile spread across Price's face, glowing all his features. "It's perfect." He words suggesting he meant more than just the tea.  
  
  
Soap beamed at the compliment, now the two of them like balls of goddamn sunshine, his hands proudly propped on his hips. "Told you I could do it, make a good cuppa."  
  
  
"You're a fast learner."  
  
  
"Or stubborn to succeed. I can't handle not being good at something, unless it repairing shite. I've accepted long ago that I'm hopeless with that." Soap admitted with a self-deprecating smile. Price laughed lightly and shook his head at that one. "But hey, at least I have you to help with that." Soap added with a wave of his hand in the man's direction. Truthfully, he would be thoroughly screwed without Price's repairing expertise..that damn door.  
  
  
"Oh, now you want my help." Price remarked dryly from his position, leaned against the counter by the stove, the mug was lowered from his lips.  
  
  
"If it involves tools in your hands and you down on your knees, than I'm more than willing to accept that sort of help. Anytime." Soap quipped, a wolfish grin flashed on his features. Price cast a look in his direction that easily translated as, 'you'll be the one down on your knees soon enough', and continued drinking the tea, baiting his time.  
  
  
Soap cleared his throat, feeling hot from the look, and pulled his journal from his pants pocket. Quickly, he sketched out the way Price's lip cringed up at the bitter taste of his first failed cup, biting back the huge, cheeky smile from falling on his mouth. It was easily the fastest thing he'd ever drawn, he ripped it out and balled it up, tossing the sketch at Price's chest, it nearly ended up landing in the man's half empty mug. The look on Price's face when he smoothed out the wrinkled paper was, well, priceless. That little incident resulted in Price yanking Soap into his bedroom, pushing him down on the mattress, untying the apron and pulling off his shirt in one go, the two of them retiring from tea making for the rest of the evening. Exactly where Soap had planned to end up since the very beginning of this whole thing.  
  
  
Mission completed.


	2. Operation: Debauched Dinner Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Soap and Price's 6 month anniversary...and something's bothering Price.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bumped up the rating because as the tag says, 'Soap and Price are horny bastards'. The sex scene is completely inspired by a dream I had a few weeks back, and yes...it was glorious. *_*

_6 Months Later_

After work, Soap spent a majority, if not all, of his evenings at Price's place. The days he wasn't there, Price was at his. The thing is, the days of Price coming over were getting fewer and fewer, while the ones of him going over to his boyfriend's house were increasingly becoming a regular thing. Soap used to wonder how Ghost and Roach could be so damn inseparable, how they could constantly want to be around each other and stare longingly into each other's eyes and never get tired of it, if anything, crave it more. Now Soap finally got it. He understood. If it wasn't for work, Price and him would be the same. There wasn't a day went by that he didn't tell Price he loved him, and not a day passed that he didn't hear it in return.

Last night was their sixth month anniversary. Initially, to Soap's chagrin, since they were apparently the kind of couple that celebrated monthly anniversaries, but they were already the type who discussed the weather, so why not go all in? With Price, at least.

They decided together to have their date at Price's house, knowing that if there were at Soap's, his borderline maniacal best friend, Simon Riley, would be dead set on bombarding their romantic time, probably by 'singing', more like embarrassingly crooning, love-themed Disney songs during their dinner..and most likely end up stealing most of it. Nothing could kill the atmosphere more and Soap would rather not spend their anniversary in a jail cell for tossing his friend out the window.

The entire day leading up to the evening, Soap had anticipated that their date would be sensual and, of course, end a little filthy, but it appeared that something was bothering Price, or...distracting him. When Soap was helping him with dinner and talking about his day, Price barely seemed to notice or pay attention to anything he said.

Price, as promised on that walk home months ago, turned out to be an amazing cook. He spoiled Soap with a home cooked meal almost every night of the week. Soap gave Price a hand with the prep work as much as possible, and by a hand it meant the occasional vegetable was chopped or diced, but mostly it meant he put his hands all over Price, kissing and grabbing at him at every given opportunity. Not the best idea when Price was trying to cut up greens with a chef knife. Dinner was always delayed.

Soap insisted on helping clean up afterwards, and that's when it was his turn to get distracted. Amazingly, neither one of them had to make any trips to the hospital. Yet.  
  
Right now, nothing seemed to successfully grab Price's attention. Soap figured that even if he had been slicing up mushrooms stark naked, oiled, and rock hard, Price wouldn't have given him a second glance. Or so he was convinced...he'd have to try that if this kept up.

"So then I told 'em, 'Look, sir, if I fill that cup to the very top with espresso, you will literally die.'" Soap said, barking out a laugh. "I mean, isn't a double shot enough? Shite, I wasn't planning on calling an ambulance during lunch rush. And there's no chance in hell I trust Ghost with performing CPR on anyone, except Roach. But you and I both know that would turn into a full blown make-out session, not a rescue." The silence he received in response was unusual, he looked up from chopping on the cutting board to see Price with his brows pulled down, intently staring at the garlic sizzling in the pan, arms crossed and chin up propped by a finger. "Price...Price?"

The older man's head snapped from the pan to Soap. "Hmm? Oh right, you can put the mushrooms in there now."

Soap shot a confused look at Price. "That wasn't what I was talking about." He said slowly, narrowing his eyes. "I was telling you about this guy at work today who was hell bent on giving himself a heart attack."

"Bollocks.. I'm sorry, love. I have a lot on my mind, that's all. You know how I am...when I'm thinking too much, it's hard for me to pay attention to anything besides what's going on up here." Price replied, pointing at his head, a rueful look on his face.

Soap's expression quickly changed from a look of confusion to one of worry, brow wrinkled. "Is everything alright?"

"I'm fine, really." Price assured him, retrieving the cutting board from beside Soap and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. "Now, what were you saying?"

Soap told him the story again, this time Price seemed to be paying more attention and reacted appropriately enough, but was still obviously absorbed in something else. Soap tried to shrug it off, maybe Price had a bad day? No..he would have told him if he did, they told each other everything. He could be tired, but he looked wide awake. A gnawing string of anxious thoughts began in the back of Soap's mind, he worried momentarily if he'd done something to upset him. If this kept up the rest of the night, he'd end up calling Price's friends, Gaz or Mac, to see if everything was truly as 'fine' as he said.

Turns out, Soap didn't have to worry that much longer.  
  


Price pulled out all the stops for the anniversary dinner, he made sure that they were eating one of Soap's favorite meals, that there was candles on the table, sapphire blue, Soap's favorite color and it most certainly wasn't because it matched the color of Price's eyes, and he even broke out the good whiskey, Oban 14, pouring them each a more than decent amount in his finest glasses. The table was completely set up in the short amount of time Soap excused himself to use the restroom.

When Soap walked in from the living room, he took in the scene before him fully now, studying the small, dark oak table with their food sitting on it, the glasses placed perfectly in front, the low candlelight intimate and very romantic. Something was definitely up, this was more lavish than usual for their typical dinner date nights. At least he was sure now that whatever was bothering Price before wasn't a  _bad_  thing, his shoulders lowered from their tensed up state at the splash of relief that hit him.

Price stood in front of the comfortable - yet extravagant display, a familiar, small smirk played on his lips, wearing that dark blue shirt he knew damn well drove the younger man crazy because of the way his blue eyes were striking with the color. Ah, now that's the Price he knew.

Soap licked his lips and let out a low whistle. "Damn, Pri. If I hadn't already fallen, you would have had me hook, line, and sinker with this set up. Not to mention..you look bloody sexy." His stomach growled loudly, but there was a new hunger filling him, hitting at the base of his spine, pulling at his limbs. He could say it was entirely because of the the delicious aroma that came off the food at the table, but that would be the biggest of lies.

"You don't look so bad yourself, love." Price said softly, there's a goddamn twinkle in his eye as he stares at Soap, it's mesmerizing and amorous, effecting the younger man's heartbeat.

Soap closed the distance between the two of them and put a hand on the side of the other man's face, kissing him deeply, slow and soft, the intimate setting inspiring a series of kisses, nearly forgetting the meal before them. Count on Price to remind him.

"Soap. Food." Price said between two firm kisses, placing a hand on either side of Soap's face, managing to keep their lips apart, a hand falls down to Soap's chest, feeling the circular dog tag underneath the thin materiel of his shirt, Price was always touching it, any chance he could get.

"Oh. That. Almost forgot...can't help it. You unleash those bloody bedroom eyes on me and I'm gone, bloody gone." Soap murmured, breaking Price's light hold on his face and leaning his head down to begin pressing a line of kisses down Price's neck, a low groan leaving the older man's throat.

"Bloody hell...and I thought I was the bad influence." He gently pulled Soap's head away from his neck and pressed one last kiss on his lips, trying to ignore the glossy, wide-eyed look Soap was giving him, the one he always shot in his direction when Soap was trying to get his way. "Later." Price promised.

Soap let out a sigh and frowned. "Fine, later...I'll hold you to that."

"I certainly hope so." Price said, his voice thickened with a dark mischief.

A small, relieved smile fell on Soap's lips at the devious look in Price's eyes, he really appeared to have worked out whatever had been bothering him earlier. Still, he wondered what caused him to get so lost in his own head in the first place.

Always the gentleman, Price pulled the chair out for him to sit down. The younger man smoothed out his shirt and sat in the seat, suspicious sky blue eyes following Price as sat across from him. "Pulling out my chair now, eh? That's not something you've done much." He said quietly, lifting the glass of whiskey to his lips and taking a sip.

"What can I say, when I'm trying to impress, I pull out all the stops." Price replied with a grin.

"That you do, darling." Soap acknowledged, his voice echoing inside the glass, the edge of his mouth tugging up in a grin. The younger man remembered how Price went to great lengths to 'court' him, the cigars, the talks, the repairing infuriating doors, the walks home, punching his arch enemies in the face. All very successful tactics in making him fall, hard and fast. Soap moved the glass away from his lips and lifted it in the air to propose a toast. "To us, and...new memories."

Price's expression flickered softer, a knowing look in his eyes, his smile melting Soap's heart all over again as he clinked his glass on Soap's, "To new memories." Price repeated in a low, raspy tone, the whiskey not the only thing warming Soap's inside.

They often ate together in comfortable silence, enjoying the food, well, as much silence as Soap could maintain with how delicious the meals usually were. The table they sat at, right off the kitchen, was small, thankfully, so their hands could touch and kisses could easily be given without too much effort. They stared at each other after a few bites, silently communicating thoughts and words through affectionate glances and familiar smiles.

"Soap...remember when you talked about moving out on your own?" Price asked, breaking the, sort of, silence.

"Aye." Soap managed to get out, albeit very muffled sounding, he himself now engrossed in other matters...the delicious plate of overly sauced pasta before him. "Mmm god, Price, this is fucking fantastic. I don't know how you do it. Know I'll have to pull another hour or two at the gym this week, but it's so worth it." He let out a moan and stuffed another bite of pasta in his mouth.

Price was transfixed on the sight before him, Soap's overt display of appreciating his cooking was a reward all on its own. He somehow pried his eyes away from the younger man, who began wiggling his brows at him in the most ridiculously sexy way, and pushed a piece of mushroom around on his plate around with a fork, trying to regain his train of thought. He let out a sigh and looked up at Soap, who was still making orgasmic noises, but when he noticed Price staring at him again, he gave him a wide, closed mouth smile, all dimples and stuffed cheeks.

"You still wanting to do that?" Price inquired, now that he had Soap's full attention.

Soap covered his mouth with the back of his hand. "What, move out?"

"Yes, that."

Soap carefully chewed his food and swallowed. "Most definitely. I need to get out of there, Pri. I swear, if I walk in on Ghost and Roach half naked on the couch traumatizing my poor cat one more time and Ghost defending it saying 'Maybe the freaky little bastard enjoys the show'...I'm gonna lose it."

"I'm serious, Soap..."

"So am I. I'm the one who bought that couch and now I can't even walk past that bloody thing without feeling dirty and cringing." Soap's expression flickered to that just thinking about it, nose scrunched in an adorable way. Price laughed quietly and shook his head.

Soap stared at the other man, trying to figure where he was going with the question, he noticed how Price had that rare nervous look in his eyes, the food barely touched on his plate, and how he kept readjusting the hat on his head..his giveaway stress indicator. "Why do you ask? I know you didn't put together this whole romantic setting just for our anniversary.."

"You're right. I've been thinking.." Price swallowed hard and reached across the table to take the younger man's hand in his own, Soap instantly responded to the touch by squeezing softly and giving him a small smile.

"Uh oh." Soap jested, smirking at the other man, trying to disguise the excited nerves that were bubbling inside him.

Price slowly breathed in through nose and exhaled sharply, a light smile played on his lips. "I should get on with it and outright ask before you delay this further." He drew in another breath and looked up at Soap, eyes bright and warm, Soap's nerves instantly calm by the gaze. "Would you...move in with me?"

Soap was silent for a moment or two, the question replaying in his mind, leaving him with a wide-eyed stare. "As in, the two of us living together?"

"That is what 'moving in' implies, yes." Price kept his voice steady and patient, looking pointedly at the younger man.

"Me and you...sharing this place?" Wrinkles crinkled in Soap's forehead as his eyes shot about, looking across the walls of Price's place, the place that felt more like home to him than his own. Or maybe it was the man sitting across from him that caused that feeling, but from the stacks of history books scattered around, to dark blue walls with military artwork that covered nearly every free space, to plush sandy carpet under his booted feet...it felt like home. Like he always belonged here, like he was meant to be here.

"I'd like that, I want nothing more than for you to be here with me. Everyday. Wake up with you, fall asleep with you, expand that one drawer of yours in my dresser to half of it, have your toothbrush laying on the counter next to mine..." Price told him earnestly, rubbing his thumbs on the other man's knuckles.

Soap leaned in closer towards Price. "Hold up, is this what you were all bothered with earlier when you said everything was 'fine'?"

"Yes, it was, but..Soap, you still haven't answered..." Price breathed out in a anxious tone.

Soap couldn't help but laugh, deep in his chest, warm and quiet. "Huh, well what the bloody hell, do I you think I'd say no? I practically live with you anyways, don't you think?"

A weight seemed to lift off of Price's shoulders as he too started to laugh, the corners of his eyes creased in the most endearing way. "Good point."

"You wanna settle down with me like some sappy old couple, eh?"

"Quite frankly, I've wanted to settle down with you like a sappy old couple for months." Price admitted with a shrug of his shoulders, causing Soap to beam over at him.

"I think I did the moment you gave me the crazy brow about my name. Fell right then, knew I'd get to this point someday. Or hoped, at least." Soap confessed.

"I'll bet..."

"See, there it is again." Soap chuckled as Price's eyebrow began to raise higher. "I love that...I love you. Of course I want to move in." He leaned in across the table and kissed Price fully on the lips, carefully avoiding the candle in the center.

Their faces still close, Price whispered against his lips, "I love you too." The smile that radiated off of Price's face, along with the soft spoken words, made Soap's heart to do more flip-flops than he'd ever care to admit. The kiss that was pressed to knuckles right after left it more in a competitive runner's state of beating, pounding, thudding, and full of a love and affection that was so strong, it honestly scared him sometimes, in the best of ways. But most of the time, it made him feel like the luckiest man in the world.

He was.

The happiness that flowed through the two of them was intoxicating, the whiskey on the table couldn't compare to this feeling, it was forgotten now in favor of a natural high. There was only one last matter...

"Hellraiser. My cat is included in this little deal, right?" He asked seriously, but the edge of his mouth was turned up.

"Of course he is, I love that bloody cat. What kind of boyfriend do you think I am? I'd never suggest that he'd be left with Ghost and Roach's questionable...antics." Price said sounding scandalized, muttering the last word with a look that said he knew all too well what kind of 'antics' Roach and Ghost get up to. They had, unfortunately, bumped into them several times in..compromising positions, their friends' claiming the living room far before them. That's when he realized..their lifestyle was just as debauched as their friends'.

Soap traced a finger over the veins on Price's hand and looked up to him, a playful, hinting glint in his eyes. "The only thing is..he'll have to put up with ours."  
  
"In that case, we'll have to start using the bedroom more...perhaps."

"But the couch..." Soap whined, glancing over at the comfy piece of furniture, remembering all the great sex that was had on it and how that all could be lost once his cat laid claim on it.

An impish look was held on Price's features as he gazed meaningfully at Soap. "He's not here yet."

Four words was all it took and suddenly the distance between them at the table was far too much to bear.

"Well, Pri, dinner was fantastic but, uh, I think I'm satisfied..when it comes to food, at least." Soap said suggestively, his voice low and husky. Cleaning up could wait, right now there were more pressing matters at hand, literally, like the fact that he was getting harder by the second inside his trousers from the look Price was giving him.

"I suppose this night does call for celebration.." His tone mirroring Soap's.

With that, Price's hands were swiftly removed from his own, both were pretty sweaty at that point, Soap watched as he took a quick swig of the whiskey and pounded the glass back on the table like a pro. In the next beat of his heart, the man stood from his chair, before Soap could complain about the loss of the touch, Price was pulling him from his seated position in the chair and into his arms, palms rubbing into his lower back. Soap stared at him through hooded lids, waiting with bated breath for the older man to make the move and lean into him, so he could chase the burning whiskey on his tongue and leave him with another sensation of heat and ravish every inch of his skin.

"One second." Price murmured, leaning his head down towards the table instead, blowing the candles out in one whoosh of air, then lifting himself back up. "Now then.."

How did every damn word he said sound so bloody seductive? As soon as the words left Price's mouth, Soap was there with a hand cupped behind the back of his neck, pulling him into a deep, hard kiss, his lips moving eagerly against the other man's, but, as always, Price was the focused one, the one with a sure focus, kissing him right on point without forgoing the enthusiasm, balancing out his own reckless passion.

Their lips still firmly connected, they began a sort of awkward backwards walk to the couch, Soap began undoing the buttons of Price's shirt in the process, trying to get the blasted thing off as quickly as possible and feel his heated skin, drag his fingers over his strong torso. Price's hands moved to the Soap's shoulders, digging into the muscle all while keeping him balanced and steady as the younger man was turned around so he was the one walking blindly backwards. Price nipped at Soap's lower lip, a low moan escaping the younger man's throat at the shock of pleasured pain twinged from that point.

Soap was only halfway through the buttons when the back of his knees came in contact the front of the couch, nearly causing him to lose his footing, but Price still held onto him, catching him before he had the chance to trip up. They stood there for a five pounding heart beats, shared in the rhythmical thud, the only moving thing besides their lips, harder bites being exchanged, Soap's hands stilled in their undressing the other man, fingers froze on the smooth buttons. Price moved a hand from the other man's shoulder to cup the side of his face, stroking a thumb on the side of his cheek, over the rough scratch of his scruff at his jaw. The kiss turned unsuspectingly soft, a vast array of not so secret emotions slipping past, just like Price's tongue did through his lips, sliding across the younger man's in silky motions, the two of them sharing the same breaths, breathing in the others exhales.

Soap was pushed down into the cushions of the couch and landed with soft creak, biting his lip as he watched Price crawl on his knees and cover his body, rutting down into him. The younger man adjusted his hips with a cringe, feeling an uncomfortable, sharp edge underneath his ass, prodding into his back. "What the shite?" Soap lifted his lower body so Price could reach down, when he did, he pulled up one of his large lesson plan books. Soap raised a brow at him.

"Sorry about that, love. Mind the paper cuts.." Price said, dropping the book to the floor.

"That bloody hurt, you know." Soap complained with a pout.

"Hmm...we should have cleared the couch before we all but threw ourselves on it." Price pointed out.

"That would have taken too damn long...you and your sodding text books..." Soap muttered under his breath, rubbing his fingers into the steadily dulling pain on the base of his spine.

Price gave him an apologetic smile and lowered his hands, gently working his palms into the sore spot, the other hand moving slyly down to the top of his ass. Soap groaned again, this time in a satisfied pant of breath, he lifted his head up an pressed his lips against the older man's into a sensual sequence of kisses, deepened when Price dipped his head lower, moving a hand to the back of Soap's scalp, drawling the man's lower lip between his, sucking on the light pink flesh in a tight vice, licking at the entrance of his mouth, beckoning Soap to join him in the lascivious dance.

Soap felt a rush of blood flow to his cheeks then down lower, his whole body heated and literally aching for this man, the room unbearably hot now. Price, sensing this, slid his hands from Soap's back to the hem of the younger man's light grey henley, lifting it up his body, hip bones peeking out. Soap helped him out by raising up his upper body, their mouths were forced to break apart as the shirt was off in the next intake of breath and tossed behind Price, left with the fate of getting lost between the cushions, never to be seen again. Price ran his hands up Soap's torso slowly, his dragging his fingers up and digging in hard into his abs and the sides of his waist. Soap groaned at the pressure created, rolling his hips up and feeling flustered...Price was still atrociously over-dressed.

"Atrociously over-dressed? If that's what you think, why don't you do something about it, eh?" Price murmured, his gaze intense, face flushed a delicious shade of light red, saliva lingered on his bottom lip, Soap ran a finger across it, dipping the digit between the older man's lips, moaning when Price licked it and bit at the tip.

"Shite, did I say that out loud?" Soap asked, far too turned on to care if he did or didn't, his focus unbroken, only watching the movements of Price's mouth on his finger.

"Mhm." Price hummed not letting up on the unbearably filthy display he was putting up for Soap, the images inspiring the younger man.

"Never could learn to hold my tongue." Soap said, darting his tongue over his lips to make the point. He removed his thumb from Price's mouth and dragged it over the man's lips again, biting back a moan as Price's hips rutted forward, the older man look dissatisfied with the near quiet response so he did it again, snapping forward with increased exertion, his hard arousal bumping forcibly on Soap's, both men couldn't contain the groans that fought to escape their mouths, Price's low and breathy, Soap's loud and gasping.

"Thank god for that." Price said between a grunt, his expression was positively naughty. Soap growled, fucking growled, and ripped off Price's shirt in one go, a button popping off and hitting the wood floor in the process, but neither appeared to notice or care in that moment, Price's shirt was too thrown behind him. The moment apart was too long, their mouth's connected again fiercely, noses bumping together, wet tongues battling against the each other, bare chests pressed together, heaving for breath. Price tried to tame the kiss, to take it slow and teasing like he always did, but Soap wasn't sure how much he could take of that tonight.

A brush of air across his skin was the only warning he had before he felt Price's broad fingertips traced a line from the hollow of his throat down to circle his belly button, tugging lightly at the hair scattered across his abdomen. The touch was light enough to raise goosebumps all over Soap's skin and just the right kind of hard to make his hips raise off the cushions in anticipation. He shivered, although his skin was blazing, his body languid and relaxed under the touch, but a fire was being lit in his belly, demanding to take control, feeling uncharacteristically dominate with the older man. He held back the lusting ache within him to take over, if only for a few more moments, while the older man ran his hands down his hips and shifted to the front of his pants, tracing around the button before lowering down, outlining his hard cock like the filthiest version of connect the dots. Soap took in a shaky breath at the touch, even more so when Price gazed up at him, smirking in a much different matter, his eyes dark.

Soap opened his mouth to protest the prolonged stripping of his pants, but there was no need, for at that very moment, Price undid the button and pulled the zipper down in a flash, pulling both his pants and boxer-briefs down his legs. Soap kicked off his boots so the clothing could be shed off his over-heated body. Price disposed the clothing on the floor, not even looking, his focus entirely on Soap's fully exposed body, eyes skimming across every inch of his skin, he's frozen, breath caught in his throat, and just staring, like he was the artist and sketching out his body in his memory.

Soap tries to read the expression and finds he can’t. It’s a pure emotion, deep, honest and unfiltered. There's no walls, no deflecting, just  _Price_ , and it’s almost better than the brushing soft touch of his calloused fingers feeling out the musculature of Soap’s abs, then lower again.

"How's it I'm always the one naked first while you stay clothed right up to when we're fucking? It's not fair, I tell you." Soap complaints were cut off with a cry as Price palmed at his hard cock, thrusting up into the rubbing motions. "There you go, changing, the - aaah -fucking subject again."

"I didn't say anything..." Price feigned innocence, a pointless effort, really, since his thumb was running over the head of Soap's cock, sweeping the pre-cum over his length in agonizingly slow strokes, the younger man cursed god and a few other deities with each twist and grasp.

"No teasing tonight, love." Soap drawled out on a pant of breath.

Before Price could say anything, Soap, in a move of great strength, leaned up and flipped their positions so he was on top, trapping the older man under his strong body. He would have laughed at Price's stunned expression at any other moment, but right now the only thing on his mind was leveling the playing field, in a matter of speaking.

Soap wasn't one for teasing, he preferred to get right down to the point, he always had, but Price had changed that in him, a little. He still wanted nothing more than to rip off Price's pants and ride him raw, but he tried his best to reel it in, as much as his carnal lust would allow him.

"This is different.." Price murmured from below him, face flushed, lips swollen, eyes caught in a heady gaze, his focus never left the man above him, his hands came up to feel Soap's biceps, the younger man shivered at the massaging grip. Everywhere Price's eyes touched set Soap's skin on fire, his body tingling all over.

"It is, isn't it? Do you like it? Do you like when I take control? When I'm the one holding you down?" Soap whispered right in the other man's ear, his Scottish brogue causing the older man to gyrate his hips up, completely out his control. Soap choked out a low groan when Price's fabric covered cock grinded on his own sensitive, bare erection, he could have let the other man keep up the rough friction, on any other night he would have, but he was calling the shots tonight. He yielded the rousing movements by pressing a palm firmly onto the front of Price's jeans, directly over his hard cock, and popped the button of the jeans, dragging the zipper down slowly.

"Do you?" He asked one last time, pressing a kiss directly under Price's ear and dragging his teeth down the side of the man's neck, all the way to his beard, nuzzling his face into it. He broke away from the pleasant scratch to observe Price's reaction.

Price paused for a moment and swallowed thickly. "I do." he answered after a drawled out silence. Price appeared to be taken aback by the self-realization that Soap being in charge, was pretty damn hot, and the arousal compressed in the prison of his jeans fervently agreed.

A dark smirk edged on Soap's features as he hummed in appreciation, relishing in the way Price's jaw set as he concentrated on Soap's every movement, when the younger man snaked his fingers under the band of Price's boxer shorts, inching his fingers inside deeper with each stuttered breath Price took in.

"We're just getting started." Soap said, an enticing ring of promise coursed through the words.

Soap may have been trying to take it slow before, tease Price like all the times he's teased him, but he quickly reverted to his old ways. In a mad rush, he leaned up and tugged Price's jeans and boxer briefs down, he's not sure when Price kicked off his own shoes but doesn't give it a second thought as he tosses the clothing behind him, joining the large pile there already. His body once burning and blazing was now cold and aching for the heat again. Price sat up in front of him and immediately latched his lips onto one of Soap's nipples, a low rumbled growl escaping Soap's throat as his head tilted back at the sensation, Price teased the nub with his teeth before rolling over it with his wet tongue, his hands sneaking around Soap's body, fingers pressing hard into the dimples above his ass.

"Ah, Price.." Soap breathed out, trying to remind himself that he was in control tonight, he lifted up Price's head and brought their mouths together brashly in a sloppy, needy kiss, his tongue was demanding entrance between those lips again, and Price gave him access freely.

Easing the other man back into the cushions with a hand on his lower back, their hip bones hitting together, Soap broke the kiss and once again bit along Price's jaw, loving the low groans that fell from Price's mouth with each nip. Soap's destination was lower, but he made the journey worth while, kissing and licking every inch of skin he encountered. Soap took Price's hips in a tight hold, digging into them with dull nails as he licked across Price's lower stomach, and then he retraced his steps back and forth as he made his way upwards. Price had an arm hitched behind his head, the other moved and gripped Soap's mohawk as the younger man pulled back a little, and blew across the wetness. Price's skin turned into goose bumps and his fingers tighten into Soap's hair.

Soap's movements become almost frantic again from the rough grasp, the two of them got off from the hard bites and unrelenting holds, The need is rising and pooling in Soap's stomach, but when he reaches the trail of hair leading down to Price's hard length, he slows his pace, pressing a kiss to each side of Price's hips, nuzzling his face between the man's thighs, his stubble prickling on the sensitive skin. With his hands, he coaxes Price's legs open, just enough to give himself room to ease between them, resting most of his weight on his elbows, blowing air over the tip of Price's cock. Price's breathing was uneven and heady before, but now it was intense, sucking in anticipated breaths, his skin glazing over with a fine sheet of sweat. Soap loved watching him getting worked up this way, he resisted snapping his hips into the couch to relieve the pulsing ache settled in his cock.

Soap took a moment to enjoy the sight of the throbbing flesh standing straight up from the trimmed dark hair before leaning down to nuzzle Price's hip, causing Price to growl deep in his chest and give a thrust of his hips. Soap tsk'd audibly and punished Price by staying there, he nibbled and sucked the skin of Price's hip until he got the hint and stopped wriggling. Soap peered up at Price, taking in his heavily breathing form into his memory and never forgetting it.

"Hope you didn't have dessert planned, because I have other ideas.." Soap said, moving a hand to grasp around the base of Price's cock.

"There was your favorite ice cream but - fuck! Soap - aah.." Price was trying to be a cheeky bastard, but was quickly cut off, groaning loudly as Soap licked a broad stripe over the head of his cock, going around once, twice, before pressing the tip of his tongue down on the slit. Price hips shuddered as they tilted upwards to bring himself closer to Soap. The younger man tried to be annoyed that Price was attempting to take control, but Soap wants this, wanted it the whole night, he obliges the silent plea and parts his lips, taking the length of Price into his mouth, as much as he can get, keeping eye contact the entire time.

Price bit down hard on his lip and moved his other hand moved to join the first, fingers tangling in the man's mohawk, guiding Soap's head down his cock, his hips rising up, sinking himself deeper into the wet heat of Soap's mouth. Soap sucks down hard a few times before pulling back and running the tip of his tongue over a vein on the underside of Price's cock, trying to drawl out as much noises out of the older man as he can get, which is no easy feat, Soap is typically the louder one in bed, a low groan or growl is as much as you can get out of Price, but Soap gets lost in each one, no doubt in his mind to how much he's working up the other man. Each movement of his tongue drawls out another small moan or breathy gasp, his own hums thrown into the mix.

Soap wasn't even trying to hold down Price's hips at this point, he allowed every snap that came upwards at a particular shock of pleasure, all he did was take Price further into his mouth, into his throat, eliciting increasing moans from the older man. Soap's hand grasped around him snaked lower, just past his base, Price's hips jerked upwards, head fell back to the arm rest, eyes closed at the sudden and expert deep-throating and fondling. Soap hollowed his cheeks, sucking as he pulled back, and hummed in his throat as he went back down, the vibrations wrapping themselves around Price's sensitive member, Price let out another deep groan at the sensation.

Price was close, real close, the repressed groans, catching breaths, and shaking hands were the tall tell signs, he feebly tried to pull back Soap's head away from his cock.

"Soap, I'm - Ohh, fuck" Price attempted to warn the younger man but was cut off mid-sentence with a hand twisting at the base of his cock.

Soap responded to the warning with a nod and a hum, and instead of pulling back, he pushed his head forward, taking Price clear to the back of his throat, not letting up the swrils of his tongue and the hard massaging, until Price's hips jerked forward, hands still messily entwined in Soap's hair as he came with a deep grunt.

Price was panting heavily, sweat was sliding down the side of his neck, glistening from the shine of the moon coming through the living room window. Soap dug his fingers into the older man's abdomen, giving a final swipe of his tongue on the head of Price's cock, collecting every last drop. Peeking up through his lashes, he catches sight of his boyfriend, lavishly fucked and running a hand through Soap's mohawk and another through his own hair, he leaned into the affectionate tug on his hair, and began pressing a trail of kisses up Price's body.

Oh he wasn't done with Price, not by a long shot. He lingered the kisses when he reached the collar bones on the other man's body, leaving light bites on the prominent rises, low groans leaving Price's throat at the nips.

"Soap?"

"Hmm?" He answered at the base of Price's throat and moving to a tendon sticking out on the side, biting down and sucking, working on leaving a mark on the very spot, a tattoo, a memory, imprinted on Price's skin, a stamp of lust, so everyone could know what their favorite professor got up to in the PM hours. Soap smirked on Price's heated skin thinking of his reaction to seeing it.

"That was..."

"Hm?" Soap repeated, not moving from his determined marking.

"Fucking incredible." Price rasped out, a groan attached to the end, Soap laughed throatily, that was the kind of reaction he wanted out of him. Price reached for Soap's head, lifting it so their lips could meet once again in a heated kiss, tongues sliding together, deep breaths quickly taken through their noses, whiskey and the taste of himself on the younger man's tongue, lacing together.

Soap was still hard, painfully, he grinded his cock into the other man's hipbone, a hiss of pleasure escaping his lips. He was on a whole new level of desperate and couldn't take this slow riding, he needed to come.

Price tore his lips away and rested his face on the side of Soap's, his beard rubbing into the other man's cheek, breathing hard. "Fuck me."  
  
Soap did a mental double take and lifted his head away from the tender nudge, giving Price a questioning look, unsure if he heard the words correctly. Price obviously liked doing the fucking, pressing Soap down into the bed, wall, or couch, but right now there was an almost needy look in his eyes, his jaw locked in a tense, controlled desire, and he didn't look like he was regretting his words at all.

"You...sure about that?" Soap asked carefully, keeping his growing excitement under control.

Soap felt fulfilled with his burst of dominance and, honestly, he'd be perfectly fine if Price were to flip their position and finish him off with a hand or his mouth, or, through the man's impressive stamina and libido, fuck into him until he screamed himself a sore throat with barely a graze of Price's hand on him, something that was pretty typical for their sex. But getting the opportunity to top, to be the one making Price feel that intense pleasure, to hear him cry out, though he knew the older man would suppress it, that was something he couldn't pass up. Soap, in all of their months together, hadn't topped once, he figured the older man preferred to be the one giving rather than receiving and Soap had no problems or protests about being the one getting fucked, only with how much Price teased him...but there was a first time for everything.

Price flattened his hand on the side of Soap's face, stroking across Soap's stubble, trailing it down to the side of his sweaty neck, lightly squeezing, feeling Soap's rapid heart beat pulsing under his heated palm, increasing when he licked his lips and leered at Soap. "I'm sure." Price told him, no hint of doubt in his voice, his eyes tracing over every inch of Soap's face, every line, every freckle, every bead of sweat, and held them in an intimate gaze.  
  
"Fuck, Price..I -" Soap blinked back at the thundering waves of emotions that hit him at the other man's trust and vulnerability he was displaying. Soap's heart fluttered madly in his chest and he had to swallow against the uproar of feelings. He didn't trust his voice anymore, so he just nodded and brushed his fingers on Price's beard, leaning down to kiss him fully on the lips, his raging arousal surrendered for a few minutes in favor of a slow burning kiss, pouring all his emotions into each movement of his lips, Price answered every one, bringing him closer, pulling the younger man on top of his body so he was smothered by the warmth and weight of him, the scent of them mixing together, making both men light headed, breathing in deep to pull it inside themselves.

Soap broke away from the intense kiss, his head spinning and reeling, high on sheer pleasure and the feeling of Price trapped beneath him, but the pressure of the pleasure was becoming too much, built up for too long, he needed a release. "Is there..?" He asked breathlessly, silently praying there was lube someone in his general vicinity so he wouldn't have to make the torturous trek to Price's room, well,  _their_  room now, for some.

"My jeans, front pocket." Price answered swiftly.

Apparently prayers can be heard and answered.

"Bloody hell, Price, you put lube in your pants pocket...?"

"Sure did."

"Goddamn sneaky bastard, I love you." Soap grinned, pecking him swiftly on the lips.

The room was lit enough from the full moon outside and the nightlight in the corner of the living room, placed there because of Soap's habit of waking in the middle of the night to grab a snack, and the time he nearly was hospitalized when he ran into Price's tower of textbooks. Now it served as a essential help in Soap's search for Price's earlier discarded jeans. Reluctantly, he leaned up off of Price, not too much, Price still had his hands on him, grazing them up and down his waist, scratching through his chest and belly hair. He turned his upper body a bit and reached, tossing his shirt out of the way to find Price's jeans sitting there, it was like a fucking heavenly glow illuminated over them, or it seemed that way in Soap's mind, at least. His hand dug in the pocket on the right and was left empty handed with a frown.

"The other one." Price murmured, his hands slinking down lower and lower by the second, Soap nearly grabbed the man's hands to make them cover his leaking length, but he resisted, knowing a much better thing was coming. And surely he would be too.

"Ah, right." Soap all but cheered openly when he found the blessed bottle of lube, of course Price knew they'd end up fucking somewhere other than the bedroom, he was always prepared for everything. Soap moved himself back on top of Price and fumbled with the bottle of lube, this wasn't his first time, not by a long shot, but it's been awhile. That, on top of the fact that he was embarrassingly horny, his nerves felt jittery and on edge, in the best way imaginable, he would have been mortified at his actions if he was with anyone other than Price, the older man stared on at him, no trace of judgement or laughter on his face, only open trust and love mixed with a healthy dose of lust.

The small plastic bottle was gently taken from his hands by Price and clicked open, Soap's eyes snapped up to Price's face with the noise, he kept eye contact as Price took Soap's hand and applied a good amount to his fingers, quite more than was used for him, then again, that was necessary, Soap has no idea when the last time was that Price was in this position, and he wanted to make it amazing..no.. _fucking incredible_. As much as he could with his over-aroused state.

Price held onto the bottle and Soap dropped his hand down between Price's legs, a slick finger slid slowly inside of Price, he froze his movement when he heard Price take a sharp intake of breath.

"Price?" Soap asked, looking over Price's face. It was just his name, but a thousand questions were held in it, 'are you ok?', 'are you sure you still want this?', 'did that feel fucking great or was that a painful gasp and maybe I really suck at this, no pun intended?'

"Don't worry, just take it slow, I'll be fine.." Price assured him through clenched teeth.

Soap gauged every reaction, every flick of his features with the movement of his finger, his haughty breaths and gasps. Damn, Soap wanted to fuck him,  _needed_  to, but his need for Price to be ready and comfortable overpowered that tenfold. Price's eyes clinched shut as Soap gently worked his finger in deeper, moving it in and out in a slow, thrusting motion, his other hand palmed at Price's somehow already hardening cock, that seemed to be just the push over the edge the other man needed.

"Go ahead..aah." Price said, his hips starting to move with Soap's finger.

"Hmm." Soap hummed, not trusting his voice to form coherent words at the moment, he eased in his middle finger next to the first, working them in scissoring movements, Price writhed underneath him, at first Soap was concerned, then he saw the look in Price's eyes, pupils full blown and dilated, catching every breath Soap exhaled.

It didn't take long after that for Price to be ready, three fingers in and he was pushing back on them with a fervor, he must have been just as horny as Soap..and all from his touch. Soap was pretty sure he never felt this good before, until he heard a clicking noise again and not even a pound of his heart later, Price's hands gripped around his stiff cock, fully erect and flush to his lower stomach, he couldn't stop himself as he thrusted into the grasp.

"Fuck!" Soap choked out, groaning at the attention finally being given to him, it took all of his willpower to stop himself from fucking into the Price's hand until he came, but he gathered enough to still his hips, letting Price coat his achingly hard cock with lube, the sight searingly hot. One of his hands dug into Price's shoulder, holding on till he was covered completely, of course Price was exaggerating the process, bloody bastard.

"Bloody bastard, eh?" Price questioned, running his thumb over the head of Soap's cock.

"Shite...I did it again, aaah - I think I'm covered well and good now..fuck..Price, I'm already close enough to coming, aah." Soap breathed out through gritted teeth.

Price smirked, goddamn smirked, right in the middle of one last tight grip, and let go, Soap's cock stood completely upright, and throbbed, he couldn't wait any longer. His metal dog tag rested on Price's chest as he leaned down and caught Price's lips with his own. With a hand, he guided himself right at Price's entrance and rocked his hips just the slightest bit forward, sinking slowly into Price, feeling the delicious heat contract around him.

Price stilled under him, his breathing was quick and shallow as he snapped his head back against the arm rest with a grunt, drawing in a long and shaky breath as Soap slid in all the way in to the hilt, a look of absolute pleasure across his face.

"Oh god," Soap whined. "You're tight." His teeth were bared as he felt a burst of emotion and began kissing softly all over Price's face, comforting him in the surely uncomfortable stretch he was feeling, the opposite of the searing pleasure coursing through his own body. Completely buried, he halted all movements and let Price adjust, though every part of him demanded to pound into Price hard, but he could control it, seize the want, and be slowly consumed by Price. He kissed his way to the other man's lips, alternating between licking and biting the bottom and top. Giving gentle, shallow thrusts, he felt the other man break away from the kiss and spring into a deep breathing fit again, but there was no painful gasp, only quick inhales of air, a moan with Soap's name attached to the end of each one, another thing Soap committed to his memory.

The moans were all he needed to tell him that it was ok to go faster, rocking into Price, each roll of his hips hitting deeper and harder into the other man as his legs came to wrap around Soap's lower back, pulling him deeper. Soap's moans and groans were louder, much, he was thankful for a moment that Price didn't live in an apartment. His whole world became more skyrocketed with pleasure when Price gyrated his lower body along every thrust Soap gave.

With tunnel vision eyes, Soap finally removed the hat from the older man's head, not even sure where he threw it, his vision all consumed with Price's head thrown back, jaw slack just enough for deep, breathy groans to escape. He ran his hands through Price's hair, tugging on it, messing his fingers through the short locks. Soap snapped his hips hard in a upward motion, hitting Price in just the right way for a low cry to escape his throat. Now that's what he was going for.

"Shite, do that again." Soap begged desperately, even the mere memory of the noise made a powerful tingle go through his body.

"Move like that again..and aah, I will." Price ordered on a edge of a moan.

Soap complied and became a man on a mission, his new high priority: make sure Price cried out like that over and over. He pistioned his hips up, harder this time, hoisting Price's leg further over his hip to get in somehow deeper, as deep as he could. With a snapped rough thrust, all traces of air left the older man's body at the thrust, a choking cry left his open mouth.

"I can't keep this up much longer..." Soap croaked out, as he felt Price tighten around him with each hit on the spot deep inside the older man. It was all too much, the blinding pleasure, the contracting pressure, and the intense emotions flooding through his whole body. Price was everywhere, in every scent, in every thing he saw, in the tight heat, he was consumed by him. He couldn't believe he hadn't already exploded at this point, but he was motivated to make Price cum again, unable to himself until he succeed.

Price had him locked in an inescapable grasp, his legs wrapped around him, his hands gripped on the middle of his back, scratching in deep enough for twinges of pleasured pain to shock through him and straight to his cock. He pressed his face into the crook of Price's neck, the blinding volts of ecstasy shocking through him as he dragged the edges of his teeth out across one shoulder, damp and hot. Price kissed the scattered patch freckles on the side of Soap's neck and wrapped a hand around his own once again hardened length. A loud, biting groan fell from the back of his throat when Soap covered his hand over his and gave his cock a firm squeeze, twisting his wrist, and jerking up and down the length of it in sync with his thrusts, both their hands moving together, they were a good team. Soap pulled back from the man's neck to watch him, see his expression flash with every touch.

"Fuck, Soap!" Price shouted as he came in pulsing rhythms in Soap's tight fist, uncoiling the tightly wound pleasure, Soap didn't let up his hold and watched the cum spill over his knuckles.

Finally, that was what threw Soap over the edge, way over, another dimension over, his eyes snapped up to Price's as he cried out the other man's name, cursing in a stammered rush. Price watched in awe as Soap's face contorted as he came. He held eye contact, thrusting hard once more, spilling inside Price before losing strength in his arms and collapsing onto his chest. Price wrapped his arms around him, stroking him as he shuddered through the last few moments of his orgasm.

Soap's body stilled after a long while, other than the rise and fall of his ribs with each deep breath he took, his face planted onto Price's chest as he slid himself out of Price. He forced his limbs to move enough to retrieve a couple tissues on the iron and glass table in front of the couch, cleaning up the mess, and tossing the tissues on the table, Price would be upset about that in the morning, he was sure, but right now they both were riding on an exhausted high.

"Think you need to do that more often...bloody hell." Price said on an exhale, kissing the top of Soap's head when it fell back down on his chest.

"How do you fucking do it, I'm wrecked right now..and you still have energy...shite. One of the 9 wonders of the world." Soap mumbled, tangling their legs together, locking them in place, their sweaty bodies stuck together.

"There's 7, love." Price corrected, his voice more raw and rasping than usual, an amused smirk flashing on his face.

"I know, but 8 is your sex drive, and 9 is your cock..." Soap slurred out in a post-coitus daze, love drunk.

"I have a feeling we won't be seeing that being taught in schools anytime soon..."

"Mmmm, that's because they're wonders only I have the...pleasure to know." Soap said, rolling his hips forward, a hiss escaping both of their lips at the friction between their over-sensitive cocks.

"Just so you know...I still want that ice cream..for breakfast, if I can even move tomorrow." Soap added, moving his head up to kiss Price soundly on the lips, his thumbs stroking the side of his face.

"It's your house now too, you can have ice cream whenever you want." Price promised on the edge of another kiss.

One second his lips were moving slow and lazily against Price's, soft press of a kisses, then the next there was a soft snoring coming from the younger man. Price's pursed his lips and tried to move up, sleeping on the couch didn't sound particularly like it'd be forgiving on his back.

"Soap...Soap?" He whispered in a rough voice, trying to rouse him out his sleep, as gently as possible. His hands ran up Soap's body and rested on his shoulders, shaking them slightly. But, from the younger man's steady breathing, to the limp and inert body language, arms squeezing around Price's body, in the Soap's self-proclaimed "octopus" sleeping position, there was no way he was waking up.

Price sighed and rolled his eyes, far from irritated, a deep affection in his chest as he wrapped his own arms around Soap's body, running his hands down his back, soothing the dulled scratches he left behind earlier. Pressing a kiss to Soap's temple, the corners of his mouth tugged up in a smile at the ridiculous embrace. He reached for the blanket tossed on the back of the couch and threw it over them.

Letting out a sigh, Price closed his eyes and gave up trying to wake his obviously exhausted boyfriend collapsed on top of him, and he soon fell asleep too, the soft snoring from Soap and muted tick of the old clock in the corner a hypnotizing and effective sleep aid. The smile never left his lips.


	3. Operation: Numpty Mates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after their anniversary, life returns to normal for Soap and Price — normal meaning waking up at ungodly hours (well mornings aren’t so bad if you have a Price in your life) and putting up with…insufferable friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the super late update...life has been hectic lately and I haven't really had time to sit down and write. Anyways...  
> At last, Ghost and Roach will make an appearance!

Dawn came fast, too fast if you asked Soap, always too damn fast. The nights seemed endless and sprawling as the night sky, yet, they flew by. Moving in, surely that would fix that problem. Soon every morning would be like this, well, hopefully not  _exactly_ like this, the position was far more than preferable, planted on top of Price and wrapped all around him, impossibly warm and snug? Ideal to one Soap MacTavish, without a doubt, but the sharp pain shooting down his spine when he moved a bit, however, could be left out.

Soap delayed opening his eyes, knowing that, even with the hunter green curtains drawn closed over the sliding glass doors, that the sun would be resilient and glare right through them, unless it was a rainy day, average for Hereford. Since he had so much luck with the silent prayer last night, Soap sent another one; for a cloudy sky and hopefully more than enough time to lay here with Price. That's when Soap pieced everything together in his mind, they were in the living room, on the couch, and not the bedroom... _their_ bedroom. He was to blame for the state of knife edged pain in his back, and more than likely, Price's as well since he was pinning him down into the couch. Which means he fell asleep at some point last night and can't even remember when he did. Fuck. Wouldn't be the first time.

After a few seconds, Soap stopped putting off the inevitable and reluctantly squinted a eye open, at once his vision was filled with the side view expanse of Price's neck, he was close enough to see the risen bumps on his skin and the whiskers from his beard that trailed down. He let out a low hum, it was defiantly a pleasant thing to see first thing in the morning, enough to make the usual morning grouch in him feel unabashedly cheerful. OK, he wouldn't go that far. The mark he worked so hard to leave was still there on Price's neck and it was definitely larger than he intended to make it. Oh yeah, Price would be a little annoyed about that. Even so, a warm, sleepy smile crept over his lips at the sight of the light rouge patch, increased when he took note that the lighting in the room was dim and dull, void of all blaring sun, decreased when he adjusted his back a bit and felt the shock of pain again.

"Shite..." Soap mumbled tiredly, opting to freeze all movement below his waist and wind his arms around Price's chest tighter, re-burying his face in the gap between his neck and shoulder, breathing in deep and slow, controlled breaths. He brushed his lips against Price's jaw, bristling a little at the hair running along it and cuddled close, not wanting to leave the warm comfort of Price's body anytime soon, though his responsibilities were practically screaming at him to move, his valued customers that depended on him for their caffeine high, making sure Ghost doesn't cause the entire shop spontaneously combust with an improper brewing of coffee like he did last week, just to name a few. Soap could tell Price was awake too by the way his hands slid down his back and upwards again in repetitive, gentle sweeps, it was like he wanted Soap to fall back asleep, despite the prickling that must be in his legs.

Price was accustomed to Soap's sluggish state in his waking moments, the opposite of himself, he was wide awake from the moment his eyes peeked open.

"Good morning." Price greeted Soap with a kiss on the side of his face, albeit a difficult maneuver since Soap was still firmly planted under his chin.

Soap acknowledged him with a grunt, deep and rumbled in his chest, not moving an inch. Price rolled his eyes, far from irritated. Admittedly, he was a little, only because of how adorably grumpy the Scot was first thing in the morning.

"Soap...we need to get up." Price urged him, nudging his nose into Soap's hair, his arms stretched out above him before they came back to rest on Soap's body.

"Mmm'n not awake." Soap mumbled onto the other man's skin, closing his eyes again to play up the act. Pointless really, since his face was burrowed under Price's jaw.

"How are you talking then?" Price asked dryly, his legs had long since fallen asleep from Soap's considerable weight, he was certainly bulkier than the older man and as comfortable and warm as it was to be under his body, he wasn't as young as he used to be and being stuck in the same exact position for hours on end made him stiff. Not in a...pleasant way like last night, it was borderline painful at this point.

"Hmm...Mmpf."

"It's..." Price paused and stretched his neck up to glance at the clock in the corner by his desk, "7:04 am and we still need to take a bloody shower. and I think you said something about eating ice cream for breakfast. If you don't get up, none of that will be possible." Price said in the most persuasive tone he could manage.

At first, Price didn't even receive a noise this time, then Soap made a disgruntled sound, shifting somehow even closer so they could keep the warmth they built up from the hours of sleep.

"If you don't make it to work, think what disasters Ghost will cause, remember last week when you showed up and he served a customer three cups of non-virgin Scottish cream..on the rocks, like a bloody bartender at a pub instead of a barista in a coffee shop?" Price added in a tired voice.

Clearly that was exactly the motivation the younger man needed to move. Obviously no one would soon forget the incident of last week, _Operation Ghost Is A Whiskey Hotel (Walking Hazard)_ , not so much an incident, but a way of life with Simon Riley. Ah, nothing like coming into work on a Tuesday morning to find a half plastered drunk man stumbling about the shop, rambling something about his most likely to be ex-wife. Never again could Ghost be trusted with the Scottish Cream. Roach couldn't be held at fault, he was innocently baking away in the back, completely unaware of his boyfriend's actions despite his perpetual history of bad decisions, literally one of the few good choices Ghost made in his life was asking Roach on a date.

Soap sighed and removed his face from the juncture of Price's neck, and pressed a sleepy-edged kiss on the other man's mouth, "Alright, alright. I'm up." Soap said begrudgingly with his strong accent, the words hushed on edge of Price's mouth. His own light blue eyes glancing up to meet Price's sapphire blue for the first time that morning.

Price kissed him once, twice, maybe a third time in a eager greeting, clearly not satisfied with the single, slow peck Soap gave him, "I had a feeling that would get you moving..." Price smirked up at him, his eyes crinkled on the edges.

Of course he did, Price knew everything, he knew him better than himself. Ack, bloody sexy professor, always the bloody sexy professor.

Soap's fingers fiddled around in Price's chest hair, the corner of his mouth pulling down in a frown. "Goddamn mornin's..always come and ruin everything with brightness and a day full of work ahead."

"Soap, you love your job." Price said, the smirk melting away into a smile.

"Aye, I do...just not as much as I love laying here with you," Soap snuggled himself tighter around Price, but in the process his lower back moved in the same way as before, the pain jabbed at him again. "Bloody hell, I apologize for immense amount of discomfort we'll be enduring today, thanks to my expert topping." Soap muttered guiltily, kissing Price on either side of his face, then his lips, as if it was its own act of apology.

Price chuckled deeply into the kiss, shaking his head, he leaned forward into the kiss, making it last a few more seconds before pulling away, "Come on, love, it's not that. I happen to think you're quite...impressive as a top."

Soap couldn't help but feel lightly heated at the memories of last night, he loved when Price was on top, but last night was something new, exciting, and he couldn't fight the warm stirring in his belly at the thought of doing it again. He wasn't sure how to take the compliment, apparently he still had to work on that modesty issue of his even through all the compliments Price had given him during the course of their relationship. He ran his tongue over his bottom lip and kissed Price quickly again, "You should have woke me up, saved us from this insufferable fate."

"Right, like that would've worked. When you're asleep...you're not moving for at least 8 hours. And you happened to fall unconscious on me, meaning, waking you was a pointless effort." Price said with a dry voice, an undercurrent of teasing in the words, "I was tired anyways, you know how to wear a man out." He murmured, reaching up to trace the line of Soap's jaw, the man's stubble prickling on the tips of his fingers.

A devilish smile broke out on the Scotsman's face, "Is that so? I made you and your never ending sex drive tired, eh? I'd say that's a big accomplishment.."

"I told you that you were good.." Price said, returning the smile, a little more subtle than Soap's smug one and shifted his lower body, cringing at the maneuver.

Soap noticed, at first a concerned looked flashed in his eyes, brows pulled down, but then a different matter crossed his mind. "Sore?" Soap asked with a positively naughty glint in his eyes.

"A little. Nothing terribly uncomfortable."

"It's a good sore then?" Soap's tone was edging on anxious, he was hoping it was, he felt the good ache countless times before, they were known to be a little...rough, at times. It was how they liked it though.

"Mhm." Price hummed, stroking his fingers over Soap's cheeks, from the smooth parts bellow his eyes, to the rough parts where his stubble began.

Soap took one of Price's hands into his on and brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss on the side, no words could convey the flurry of emotions "Still, maybe next time I top, I should avoid literally being _on top_ , it seems to be the cue for me to pass out right on you when we're done."

"Actually, you do it when I'm the one on top too..." Price said, looking amused all over again.

"So exclude the missionary position all together? No sodding way, I love when you're right above me..I can feel you all over me, can kiss you as much as I want without twisting my bloody neck backwards..." And you bite my neck a lot, leading me to curse quite obscenely, and you fuck me harder too, he silently added. They were practically mind readers with each other, so Price could hear the rather loud thoughts.

Price laughed, a little louder than before and wiped away a grit in Soap's eye, resting his palm on the side of his face after. "Actually...it's pretty adorable when you fall asleep after, love. And we're definitely keeping the position, no question, no matter if you fall asleep or not."

"Adorable, really?" Soap rhetorically asked with a sigh when Price shrugged with a nod. "I can't help it! Sex makes me sleepy. Or this bloody couch does, I dunno. Guess it's a good thing Hellraiser is coming here to claim it." He said, even if the thought of no longer having sex on it made him undeniably upset.

"I suppose so..."

"But, damn, I'll miss this old thing." Soap sighed and rested his chin on Price's chest, peering up at him through his lashes.

Price smiled fondly at him and messed his fingers through Soap's mohawk again, the smile only growing when he saw Soap's eyes close, utterly relaxed at the petting in his hair.

"Well...if the mood strikes our fancy to get frisky on it, we can always put Hellraiser in the guest bedroom for an hour or so...or the rest of the evening. Nothing can kill the mood faster than a cat jumping on your arse in the middle of sex." Price grunted, cringing, he was speaking from experience.

"Price..did you really just say 'get frisky'? And why is that fucking sexy, damn. Anyways, ah, the 3 month anniversary sex...I'll never forget that night, and neither will poor Hellraiser. Catching his dads in the middle of the act.."

"Poor Hellraiser!" Price scoffed out with a disbelieving laugh. "What about me? I think I still have those claw marks on my arse..."

"You do." Soap confirmed with a nod, he would know, he spent a good amount of his time staring at it. "I might be speaking for myself, but I could've kept going just fine after that."

"You are...sort of. That's because when you're...otherwise distracted..you don't notice anything besides sex."

Soap opened his mouth to counter that, but he couldn't deny it. "Can't argue with that." He said, his voice akin to a shrug. "Back to locking Hellraiser up, I'd feel guilty, he'd be all bored and shite locked up in there, probably think we're abandoning him like his real mum did when he was a kitten..."

"...Not if he's in there with the new cat tower Gaz and I put together." Price said nonchalantly, scratching his beard with a thoughtful expression, a smile playing on the edge of his lips, suppressed, but glimmering teeth were peeking through.

"Hm, that's true, - I mean, what? New cat tower, huh?" Soap's head flew off of Price's chest, his brows crinkled together as his eyes darted all across Price's face.

The smile finally broke out on Price's face, sunny as the morning sky, and just as sleepy. Soap looked over his shoulder in the direction of the guest bedroom and back to Price, a questioning brow raised, the older man responded with a nod, the smile still locked in place. Soap all but hopped off the top of Price, feeling around the edge of the couch for his boxer shorts and yanked them on, all while walking to the room, leaving Price momentarily stunned on the couch from the sudden lack of a comfy, warm Soap on top of him. He followed suit, raising up quickly and slipping on his own undergarments, meeting Soap halfway to the room, pausing his opening of the door with a lifted wave of his hand.

Price twisted the knob and pushed the door open, letting Soap step inside the room before him.

The first thing Soap's eyes fell on in the moderate sized room was the over the top cat tower in the left corner of the room, three tiers off the ground, various toys dangled from the edges, and was it — it was carped in goddamn camo print.

"I...don't know what to say." Soap said slowly, his mouth was gaped open in surprise. He walked towards it and felt the smooth carpet, trailed up to the scratching posts on the side.

Price walked over to stand beside him, rubbing the back of his neck, "Is it too much? I know how much he likes to climb all over the place and watch over everyone..."

"Hmm, judging everyone, harshly, as Ghost says."

"Exactly what I was going to add, I thought it would be perfect for him, it's right in front of the window too, he can watch all the drunks walk home on the way from the pub. Judge them instead of our rampant sex life." Price said with a soft chuckle, making the move to shift the hat on his head, but his hands met empty air, forgetting that it wasn't on its usual place, instead it was tossed somewhere probably on the floor. Ah, Soap.

"I love it, it's perfect." Soap whispered. His voice may have been low and quiet, but the beaming smile that fell on his face was exuberant and bold, his eyes looking adoringly over at Price.

Price cleared his throat and smiled in return, wrapping an arm around Soap's waist. "I'm glad you like it.." He said thickly, the simple sentence disguising an array of emotions.

Soap turned into his arm and reached up to slip his own arms around Price's neck, "Did you get this to persuade me into moving in if I said no?" Soap asked mock-suspiciously, a playful glint in his eyes.

Price lowered his hands down to Soap's hips, pulling him closer, "I'll admit, I bought in hopes you and the little guy would move in, but also, just in case you didn't, he could still come over to visit and have something to do here besides jump on my arse." Price told him earnestly with his arms crossed over his bare chest, gauging Soap's ecstatic reaction to the gift, a pleased smile on his lips by how happy the gift made Soap.

"Bloody hell, just when I think I can't possibly love you more, you do shite like this... And make me say shite like that..." Soap said in disbelief, leaning into him, their foreheads resting together.

"You claim I'm his 'other father' and all, suppose I should be doing stuff like this."

"How could you think for even a second I'd say no to moving in? I never...I'll always say yes. No matter what." Soap told him, leaning up into a kiss. His mind may have drifted to other things with the promise, sappy daydreams of a proposal flickering in his mental vision.

Price pulled back a little, not reading too much into the dreamy look on Soap's face. "I was planning on showing you last night, after dinner, but other things came up.." Price trailed off with a smirk that said it all.

Oh, other things came up all right.

"Oops." Soap said, without a trace of regret in his voice and a easy shrug of his shoulders. "I can't wait to show 'em."

"Me neither." Price agreed, giving him one last kiss. "Say, you still up for that ice cream?"

"When am I not?"

* * *

Price told Soap to go ahead and get his...unconventional breakfast ready and that he'd be right there in a minute. Soap practically floated to the kitchen, his emotions riding on a high of love that he never felt before in his entire life. The carton waiting for him in the freezer may have contributed to the feeling too. A little.

Soap opened the cabinet next to the refrigerator and pulled out a bowl, big enough for three, but he could make it work for two. When he turned around he saw their deserted dinner on the dining room table, not a good idea to leave that sitting there all day. He pulled the freezer door open on the stainless steel fridge and scanned over the contents of it, nearly sighing happily at the sight of the butter pecan ice cream. While it sat on the counter, he collected the dirty dishes from their dinner that was long forgotten after a meaningful look and a proposition. He rinsed them off quickly and set them in the sink, he'd do this later, after he got his fill. Then again, he wondered if the dirty plates would become another casualty of Price's, the lost and never cleaned dishes that ended up chucked in the garbage.

Spooning into the bowl a more than decent serving, Soap leaned on the counter and wasted no time in eating it. His eyes looked around the kitchen, a warm smile crossing his face, combating the chill inside his belly. He'd been in this kitchen a thousand times, paced on these very floors late at night for a snack, been back up into counter and pressed against the fridge by Price, took one too many shots of whiskey with friends...and now it wasn't simply his boyfriend's kitchen, it was theirs.

Several bites later, there was a loud shout, Soap could make out the words, "Bollocks!", followed by, "Bloody hell."

He could hear Price all the way from the kitchen, he abandoned his mostly empty bowl of ice cream on the counter and walked to the bathroom in the master suite to see Price with his head lifted up, fingers prodding around a large circular mark on his neck while looking in the mirror.

"Soap." Price grunted, turning to look at Soap with an annoyed grimace on his face.

"...Yeah?" Soap answered, stepping into the bathroom all the way, settling next to the other man.

"Was this necessary?" Price asked in a clipped tone, pointing sharply to the mark on his neck.

"If I say yes, are you less inclined to be upset with me?" Soap questioned, pulling out an old trick, his best wide eyed, puppy look. The eyes didn't work for once, Price still looked as put out as ever.

"More than likely, no."

Soap sighed and ran his hand through his mohawk. "At least I still have some sort of odds in my favor..."

"I work at a school." Price said, as if it explained everything.

"Eh, technically, a college, darling... Believe me, those kids — _adults_ — have seen much more graphic stuff than a wee hickey."

"Wee, Soap? Really, this is far more than wee." Price said shortly, his own eyes widening, not in a pouting way, but...exasperated. Exceedingly. "And I don't doubt that they seen more explicit things but...on one of their professors?" He finished, blinking over at Soap.

Soap's hands flew up in defense. "You're the one always saying you're a boring professor! Now's your chance to prove to those who think that about you that they're wrong...very wrong. " Soap persuaded with a wink and crossed his arms over his chest, a satisfied smile finding its way to his lips as Price started to look slightly convinced.

"Ok..fine. But next time you feel the need to mark me up in visible places, can you at least wait till the weekend?"

"Goddamn, it's hard for a man to resist..don't know if I can promise that, Price. And you look fucking sexy...knowing I left that on you turns me on." Soap said huskily, stepping over to him, his fingers gliding down the side of the mark slowly, with clear intent of the filthiest kind.

If Price didn't look convinced that the hickey wasn't a bad thing before, he sure as hell did now.

Price grabbed the hand on his neck and pulled Soap into the shower, closing the door behind them, his eyes never leaving Soap's the entire time, that primal spark of lust burned up in his vision. Soap swallowed hard, he may have been the one in control last night, but there wasn't even the smallest trace of submission flowing off of Price this morning.

One of Price's hands reached to turn on the shower in a quick move, the water poured over them, it was a shock of cold over their warm bodies, but a moment later it was perfectly under scolding, his skin covered in goosebumps as Price shoved him back into the dark tile and captured his lips in dominating kiss, water dropping into their open mouths, hitting their tangled tongues. It didn't occur to Soap until then that they were still wearing their underwear, the cloth was drenched and dragging on his already hardening cock, but Price was one step ahead, keeping the kiss going while sliding the fabric down both of them, now fully exposed to the hot water, to Price's hand. But he doesn't touch them yet, of course not.

Price's mouth tore away from Soap's, both of them breathing heavy now in the steamed air. Soap kissed down the side of Price's face, surprisingly it was him being the one to calm down the jumbled movements, but there wasn't time, right when he was wanting to take it slow, there wasn't any damn time. Price's mouth skated across his upper body, leaving a trail of wet kisses on his chest, his neck, and shoulders. Soap hissed with pleasure when he felt Price sink his teeth on the muscle of his shoulder.

"Price, if you're trying to get bloody revenge, than I fully support this." Soap groaned as Price bit the other side, his back arched off the tiles, hips inching forward enough that their hard cocks rubbed together, the water making the skin stick, each roll of his hips drawing out a moan from his throat. Price was suppressing his own again, but Soap could hear every grunt, no matter how quiet, Price's desperate kisses on his body, the nips on his skin, the sharp intakes of breath, it's loud enough for him.

Price gripped his hand around both of them, just under being too tight, Soap's panting now, he can't stop his hips from thrusting into the hold, earning him a breathy groan from Price, so he does it again, and again, until the older man stop his movements with a firm hand on his hip.

Soap's head leaned back onto the tile, biting hard on his bottom lip with a moan, his breathing hitching when he locks eyes with Price's intense gaze. "Ahh, Price...dammit."

Price's hand starts moving then, his strokes start agonizingly slow, but when his name is chanted from Soap's loudly moaning mouth, he quickens the pace, squeezing at the base of them both, his thumb running along the veins, Soap stopped thinking a long time ago, letting his body take over, glad that Price knows how to play himself and Soap like a well-loved instrument, one that he knew every cord to pluck to get the soft cries from Soap.

Leaning forward, he pressed his lips to the same spot Soap had last night on his body and began leaving his own possessive mark. Price was breathing heavily in his ear, pausing his marking every once in a while to suck on Soap's earlobe, the side of his jaw, run his tongue along Soap's open, gasping mouth. "Don't worry, love." Price purred in his ear, his British accent rasping heating his skin, "No one will think you're a boring barista with this.."

Oh, fuck.

Price was damn near animalistic at this point, rough, but that's how Soap loved it.

"Harder...ah, fuck..do it harder." Soap begged, groaning out as Price did just that, biting down on his pulse point, a cry of his name leaving the younger man's mouth. Price's beard forcefully grated on his sensitive neck, an exquisite pleasure, he rasped out another cry, holding onto Price.

The water from the shower had been gradually turning cold but neither of them noticed, Soap was lost now, his vision blurred, the only clear thing was their hard lengths sliding together, held in Price's firm grasp. He wasn't sure how loud he'd been moaning, until he felt his throat burning.

Price thrust harder and harder, his hips pounding into Soap's, muscle smacked against muscle, until the younger man was on the tip of his toes, grasping at Price's shoulder, supported by the wall and Price's weight. It's Soap's turn sink his fingers into Price's back, dragging them down the expanse of it, pressed hard at the firm flesh above Price's ass. Their bodies melded together, skin hotter than the water was, their cocks twitched in Price's hand, his thumb dipped in over the tips, spreading their pre-cum over their tightly pressed cocks, now slippery in his tight hold.

Soap barely has enough time to register it before he's coming with a loud moan echoing off the tile walls as the other man's teeth sink deep into his neck, he pulsed harder over Price's clenched fist and abdomen, riding out the wave. The strong currents of his rolling hips enough to make Price come following him, crying out Soap's name in the crook of his neck, he held them like that, his mouth peppering kisses on the underside Soap's face, searching for his mouth and meeting it in a panting kiss, their hands clasped together, Soap's head pressed against the tiles, still kissing, a soft noise of contentment hummed in the back of his throat as Price moved his hand around them away, cupping the side of Soap's face.

Soap felt that deep pound in his chest again, fuck, he'd never want anyone other than this man, his hand clasped tighter around Price's as he slumped into his arms, Price caught him with a low, sultry laugh.

"Gotcha." He wouldn't let him fall.

 

 

 

The shower may have took a little longer than on your typical morning, but for Soap and Price, it was normal. Soap never had been one for showering in the morning, too tired, too lazy, Price changed that with his version of a shower. They were stirring, more volting to his system than a cup of coffee or several One Shot, One Kills could ever cause. Maybe Soap should correct his earlier statement, _some_ sex made him sleepy, other sex, like this morning, lite every nerve on fire, making him hyper-aware of everything. For such a gentleman, Price fucked like a porn star. Not that Soap was complaining. At all. Though it did leave him with something akin to an addiction, a constant hunger, never getting enough of Price.

Soap rushed through his routine, fixing his hair in a dash, apparently his mohawk was refusing to be pushed back the way he normally styled it. Silently, he blamed Price for his excessive messing about in it for its limp state, strands loosely falling on his forehead. Soap grunted in frustration, reaching for the bottle of gel for the 3rd time, squeezing a liberal amount on the tips of his fingers and working the sticky product into his hair, pulling piece by piece of his mohawk, arranging it in place.

"Bloody damned hair..." Soap growled under his breath, a stubborn part refused to flip back and dangled down by his widow's peak like some form of Superman's curl.

Price peeked his head around the corner of the bathroom, he was already dressed and ready to go, he must have found his hat, wherever it had been thrown last night, and amazingly he wasn't wearing his usual button up shirt. Instead, a lightweight grey sweater was pulled over his upper body, the material was tight to his chest and abdomen, Soap could make out the planes of muscle in the older man's torso, appallingly detailed, how the fuck was he expected to resist throwing himself on the man? He felt his irritation level decrease drastically at the sight of him.

"Soap, it's 7 minutes till 8..we need to get — having some problems?" Price asked, tapping a finger on the wood paneling of the bathroom door's frame.

"Aye," Soap answered gruffly, turning back to his reflection in the mirror.

Price stepped over and reached up, trying to put the piece of Soap's hair back himself, he was more patient than Soap, but the effort was pointless, the bundle of hair flopped back down every time. He frowned slightly. "Well I tried..." Price muttered, pressing a kiss to Soap's lips and walking back to the doorway.

"For fuck's sake, I'm over this." Soap said shoving off the counter and turning to leave, not before catching sight of his neck in the mirror, he flew back in front of it and lifted his head to see several marks scattered across his neck. "Oi! I left _one_ hickey on you, and you leave half a dozen on me? And teeth marks on top of that, shite."

Price chuckled in the doorway, Soap glanced over at him to see that he was standing and looking as proud of himself as ever, a smug grin on his face.

"I believe at one point you begged me to do that..." Price clarified with an arched brow.

Soap remained silent for a few moments. "Shite..you're right, fine let's just...go." Soap said, swallowing hard. He did beg Price to mark him, harder even, and he'd do it again, no question.

"Good thinking because it's now, " Price reached over and checked the time on Soap's wrist watch. "4 till 8."

At the front door Soap slid on his black gloves, the ones that didn't cover three of his fingers, the days of needing a thick layered pair put to rest, for the next couple of months at least. Soap remembered to wrap a tactical scarf around his neck to hide the obscene display, not just from customers, but more from Ghost and his intrusive commentary. Price wrapped his own blue scarf around his neck, the one Soap gave to him all those months ago. At least it was a mildly cold, cloudy day, scarves were acceptable in Hereford year round. The sight of them both in a scarf, not for warmth, but for necessity, made him chuckle, Price joined right in.

Price made sure to send Soap off with a plentiful helping of last night's dinner for his lunch and one for himself. As they walked down the hall to the front door Price stopped, Soap halted his movement too and turned around to face the older man.

"Bollocks, I almost forgot..." Price said, reaching into his front pocket of his dark trousers. "This belongs to you" He held out a small, dark red, velvet box for Soap to take.

Soap's heart nearly fluttered into overdrive as he took the box and ran his fingers over the silky exterior of the box, he steadied his breathing and snapped his eyes up to Price, but the man had a carefully held stoic expression on his face. Soap lifted the top open and was met with a metal key, shining silver, brand new, not a scratch in sight on the pristine metal. The top of the key was covered in a shiny plastic, a picture of an m1911 held inside, beautiful and just like Price's, but it was his. All his. The look in Price's eyes conveyed it to Soap, now that Price's expression broke away from it's concentrated poker face shell. The gesture was sweet and once again, unbelievably romantic.

Definitely not for the first time in the past 24 hours, Soap was at a loss for words, his throat felt clogged with a thick emotional pressure. He picked the key from it's outlined resting place and held it between his fingers, getting a feel of it. It wasn't simply a key, it was a symbol, a sign, a object to signify the turning point in their relationship, it was evolving, moving to another level, much slower than his friends had moved, but it was comfortable. They were growing, they were making new memories, together.

"I guess this makes it a done deal then, eh?" Soap said breathlessly, a beaming grin on his face.

"Sure does," Price confirmed, kissing Soap on the side of his cheek. "Welcome home, love."

"It's always been home, this just...makes it a fact. When should I move in?"

"Whenever. As soon as you want to. There's no rush, but I wouldn't object to as soon as possible.." Price answered with an easy shrug, the smirking smile on his face was all Soap's too.

Soap nodded and took his words into consideration, so the decision was up to him. It took only a moment of thought to agree that as soon as possible sounded nice..

Just as Soap was beginning to reach for the front door, Price's hand was there opening it for him and letting him walk through.

"Well played, darling..." Soap granted him with a click of his tongue, walking through the black lacquered door.

Number of times Price has opened the door for him: ~~257~~ 258

Number of times he's opened the door for Price: 0

Bollocks.

Soap would get it someday...and today was not that day.

Price laughed and winked at him, reviling in his success. "I'm sure you'll get the upper hand one day. After all, you did last night." He balanced his textbooks and lesson plan binder to dig into his pocket, searching for his door keys.

"Here, let me, I should test it out." Soap insisted, the key was still held in his grasp, a finger dragged down the dull jagged shaft as before he inserted the key into the lock and twisted. The sound of audible clicking chambers locked up their front door, a lopsided smile on his face when he turned around to face Price, his expression mirroring his own.

They parted their separate ways with a kiss, which had been so devastatingly enticing that if it weren't for their glaring responsibilities on a tight scheduled, there's no doubt Soap would have dragged Price back into the house by the collar of his shirt, leaving a large 'DO NOT DISTURB - ESPECIALLY IF YOU'RE SIMON RILEY' sign on the front door.

"Have a good day."

"Can't imagine it being anything other than that..." Soap said quietly, caressing his fingers on Price's beard as they broke apart. "You too...love you."

"Love you too." Price whispered back, kissing Soap's hand and turning to leave.

Soap sighed dreamily, not that he was the type or anything, as he watched Price walk away. It'd been a hell of an anniversary, better than any man could ever hope to have... Everything was perfect, beyond perfect.

The only problem left now was...how to tell Ghost and Roach he was moving out. And when.

* * *

With a belly full of butter pecan ice cream, the healthiest breakfast for any barista, a slightly satisfied sex drive, and a key to his home kept close to his heart in his coat pocket, Soap walked to work. The quick pace turned into a power walk, turned into a jog, and ended with a run, the ice cream and last night's dinner weighing him down.

He hadn't had much time to hit the gym with Ghost and Roach in the months he's been with Price, granted the once or twice daily sex was an acceptable alternative, it didn't completely make up for bench pressing or a long run on a treadmill. Either way, Soap could tell he'd gained a small amount of weight since he began dating Price, the man's unbelievably good cooking to blame, and the late nights on the couch, eating ice cream. He'd always been a junk food addict, but he balanced it out with exercise before...now he hadn't done his weekly run at the park for over 5 weeks and all he had to fall back on was briskly walking to work, taking his breaks standing up at work, and fitting in pull ups on the bar, push ups, crunches, and lunges all in the break room in the back of the coffee shop between bites of a bagel. And the sex, always the sex. Even the sex couldn't help all too much, typically he was the one on the bottom, being maneuvered and taking it, while Price was the active one, and of course he was ridiculously fit and trim, not an extra ounce of fat on that sex-god body.

He raced through the last meters between him and RSASS and Shine, glancing quickly at his watch. Right on time, no unfortunate incidents with Ghost could have possibly happened.

The chiming rang through the shop, the only noise in the empty room. That is, until Ghost popped his head around the corner, skull balaclava in his hand, giving Soap a wide grin.

"Hey, mate, was worried you wouldn't make it in! Thought Price decided to hold you hostage at his place...ya know..extend that anniversary celebration." Ghost greeted, jogging over to Soap and slapping a friendly hand on his shoulder.

Soap thought, 'If anyone out of the two of us was holding someone hostage today, it'd be me...', his thoughts shifting back to the shower and Price's impossibly tight shirt.

"Hey, Ghost." Soap said with a half smile, punching the younger Brit in the arm lightly. "Shite, you think I'd really leave you alone here? After the Scottish Cream?" Soap muttered, raising a brow at him, walking to the back room to hang up his coat, he hoped the key stayed in place inside its box, or Ghost would hear the clanking.

"Oh come on! That was forever ago." Ghost yelled, following behind Soap to the back.

"It wasn't even two weeks ago, ya numpty!" Soap corrected, giving him a blank look. Roach was practically a blur, mixing 3 different batters at once, pulling bagels out of the oven, his brows pulled down the entire time. "Hey, Roach!" Soap said, gripping at the younger man's shoulders, making him jump in shock. Soap chuckled and removed his hands, walking over to another hook, and pulling on his apron.

"Holy shit! Soap! Hi..uh..I didn't know you were here, thought Price decided to —"

"I know, I know..hold me hostage. Bloody hell. Sometimes you two freak me out with that shite." Soap shook his head and tied the apron behind his back, fixing the name tag on the front. "You feed Hellraiser this morning?" Soap asked, mainly directing the question towards Roach, who once again started flying around the kitchen like a madman.

"Oi, sure did...bloody cat ate half of my muffin." Ghost answered, slapping Roach's ass when walked past him, earning him a soft glare from the younger man, which was a bit unusual, the usual response was Roach giving him a dirty look, not the traditional one, but a look that implied things that Soap would rather not linger on.

"What? Ghost, he's supposed to eat his special brand, ocean flakes, on his food dish, not a goddamn muffin! He has to follow his special diet." Soap snapped at him.

"Hey, he wanted it!" Ghost's hands flew up in defense. "Sodding cat practically ripped it from my hands with his claws, those things hurt, you know. Told you that you should invest in those rubber things you glue over his nails..."

Soap sighed exasperated, pinching his thumb and index finger on the bridge of his nose. "If you made my cat sick, Riley, I swear I'll..." Soap threatened.

Always the peacemaker, no matter how stressed out or annoyed he was, Roach came between them, placing a hand on Ghost's chest, instantly seizing all of Ghost's excuses and calming him. "Don't worry, dude, I caught him before he got too much, it wasn't really half his muffin, just a bite. _I_ gave him his real food." Roach informed Soap, dropping his hand from Ghost's chest.

Soap sighed in relief. "Thank you, Roach. At least one of you is normal."

"Are normal, Soap. _ARE_." Ghost corrected, quickly grabbing up Roach's hand again and kissing the top of it despite the peeved frown on Roach's face.

Well, he was happy.

"Cut the chatter and grammatical corrections. We have work to prep for..." Soap snapped shortly, dismissing his friend with a hard glare, shooting daggers at him while he picked up a large bag of coffee beans.

* * *

Soap spent most of the day fighting the urge to brag about Price getting Hellraiser a cat tower, and about the news of him moving in with Price..he didn't think the middle of work was the best place to bring up something like that.

The foam maker on the coffee machine malfunctioned, jetting a frothy splash of milk on the front of his apron, all the way up to his face. Soap paused, blinking in shock, he could feel the liquid slide down his cheeks. Of course, that's when Ghost would come over.

"I never got to ask, how'd the anniversary dinner go?" Ghost asked cheerfully, patting a hand on Soap's shoulder and grabbing a hot pot of coffee off the counter, filling a to-go cup almost to the top. He did his showing off move of flipping two bottles of flavoring in his hands, vanilla and caramel, and squirted them into the cup and stirred with a plastic stick, handing the coffee over to the customer.

Ghost walked back to Soap and looked over at him, still waiting for an answer. He saw his friend frozen there, and the milk spattered all over the Scotsman's face, he barked out a laugh, his hand slapped on the counter over and over, vibrating the surface. "Good look for you, mate!"

"Laugh it up, you git..." Soap muttered, searching for a towel on the granite counter and coming up empty handed.

Ghost rose a brow, "Oh, I will. Told you that steaming thing was ancient and fucked, why don't you use your bloody scarf, don't get why you're wearing that sodding thing inside. You're such a hipster, MacTavish" Ghost reached over for it.

"Wait! Ghost don't — "

Too late, the scarf was plucked off his neck, he slapped his hands as quick as he could over his neck, too late for that as well.

"Holy jesus bloody, you and Price are freaks! I thought Bug and me were into biting, but bloody damn you too take the kinky cake!" Ghost yelled, loud enough for the entire shop to hear, and once again, busted into laughter.

Soap shushed him with a growl, "Goddammit, did you really need to broadcast that to the entire shop?" He seethed quietly, his face now flushed red in anger under the frothy white splotches that lingered, he quickly wiped his face off with the scarf and wrapped it back around his neck. "If you don't shut it, I swear I will bloody kill you, Riley."

Ghost didn't stop, he held his belly against the quakes of laughter. "Kill me? Mate, I already died laughing!"

Soap glared harshly at him the entire time, even when he called out the customer's number and gave her the espresso, not catching her confused stare. His fingers tapped on the counter as he shot a look at his friend, thankful that his screeching laughter finally died down.

Catching the tears from his fit of chuckles, Ghost leaned on the counter next to Soap. "Oh man, I'll never call you and Price boring old farts ever again." Ghost said, running his sleeve over his damp an red cheeks.

"I'm so glad to hear it." Soap retorted sarcastically, giving him one last dirty look before returning to the growing line of customers.

"If looks could kill..." Ghost mumbled, backing away from the murderous vibes coming off of Soap. "I see you're not in a talking mood...I'll just be going."

* * *

Later that day, Soap was still wrestling with the idea of breaking the news to his friends. Truth be told, he wasn't that upset with Ghost. He knew the man, knew his...certain sense of humor. Of course he'd want to see what was under his scarf. Ugh. But regardless of Ghost's nosy, perverted-ness, did he really have to share such...private information with everyone in the shop? Soap glanced over to Ghost and Roach behind the counter, a pot of steaming 'Back on the Grind' in his hands, Ghost was laughing his ass off about something obnoxiously, yet again, while Roach had very unamused look on his face, his hands planted on his hips. See, he couldn't leave the two of them alone for 5 minutes without Ghost doing something completely numpty-headed.

With a loud sigh, Soap went back to making his rounds, starting with the table in the center of the room, closing the distance, he recognized the familiar face of Gaz, Price's best mate, clad in his typical baseball hat branded with the UK flag. A small, friendly grin broke out on Soap's lips as he walked over to the grizzly faced Brit.

"Hiya, mate. Can I top you off?" Soap asked, raising and shaking the pot of coffee in his hands, careful to not spill any on Gaz, though he was sure that it wouldn't end anything like the incident with Kingfish, Vladimir biggest prick in the world Makarov, did had it spilled on the man. But if Gaz tried to do anything, Soap had a feeling Price would appear out of nowhere and punch his own best mate in the face. Realistically, Gaz would jump up screaming about his twig and berries burning and that wasn't the best way to guarantee continuing customers. Soap would rather avoid either situation, thank you very much.

"Not sure, my cup looks pretty full, don't it?" Gaz said, nodding down to the cup, Soap peered in the mug, to find it completely empty and let out a sigh.

"Always nice to have you and your awful sense of humor here, Gaz. It always brightens my day." Soap muttered, filling the cup to the top with the steaming coffee.

"I'll never understand how Price said the service here was excellent and charming. All I ever get it is your dry remarks and death glares..it's just like I'm talking to another Price. You two are perfect for each other." Gaz grabbed a small handful of the liquid cream serving tubs, at least 5 more than necessary, and opened them with his teeth, dumping them in one by one into his cup. "Speaking of Price, he apologized he couldn't make it in for lunch...poor man got swamped with paperwork he didn't complete last night, and the bloody dean, Kamarov, was talking his ear off. He told me to tell you he'll make up for it later, he sends his regards, and I'm sure a big kiss or three, not that he'd ask me to include that one. Probably worry I'd actually do it." Gaz said with a laugh, shaking his head.

"So would I..." Soap mumbled, eyeing the small pile of now empty creamers messily dripping onto the glass top table.

Ah, Price wouldn't be coming for lunch, Soap felt a crushing blow of disappointment, he could really use one of Price's strong, tight hugs right about now. But alas, Price was a professor, a busy bloody professor. Probably had to do with the...eventful evening they had. Either have a half-ass anniversary or miss lunch with Price, he weighed out which one was was worse. Both were bad because both led to less Price, or an absence of him completely. Soap glanced at his watch, there were still several hours until both of them were off work.

"I'm not going there, mate. You're too pretty for my tastes, pretty and baby-faced. Not my type." Gaz said jokingly, giving Soap a distasteful look.

"And Price would give you one of those knock out punches if you even thought of trying anything, after I punched you first." Soap shot a sarcastic smile at him.

"Hey, hey...if I were to kiss any one of you wankers working here, it'd be Ghost. He's the only one who actually has a sense of humor, and that voice of his is lovely. Roach is a lucky lad."

"Forget Price punching you, if you keep that up, Roach will come over here and knock your arse down into the concrete. Shite, he may look like a nice guy..but looks can be deceiving."

"I don't doubt that," Gaz tugged at the collar of his turtleneck nervously. "I remember last time we were at the pub and that guy was giving Ghost the sweet eyes, never thought I'd see dear, sweet Roach lay such a smack down of words."

Soap chuckled at the memory, random guy sure didn't know who he was fucking with by hitting on Gary Sanderson's man. After he told the drunken guy off, he straddled Ghost in the corner booth and made out with him, until he had to run to the bathroom to throw up. And they supposedly learned their lesson from the last time on Soap's birthday. Sure they did.

"By the way, looked like ol' Price was walking a little wonky today.." Gaz spoke over the coffee mug, with a grin that is classic Gaz, filled with all kinds of dirty implications and intrusive deducting.

"Gaz...don't even fucking.." Soap growled and rolled his eyes so hard it hurt.

"Obvious now what you two were up to last night." The damned smile grew cheekier and cheekier, Soap was close to pouring the coffee over the other man's head.

Soap threw his free hand up in the air. "For fuck's sake, why don't you and Ghost go be insufferable together?!" Soap tried to keep his voice low to not disturb the customers around him, but still kept the edging on seething tone.

"I would, but I don't know where the lovely chap is..." Gaz said, searching around the shop and finding no Simon Riley in his sights, with a shrug he looked back up at Soap. "Anyways, you like your anniversary gift?"

Leave it to Gaz to distract his raging irritation by bring up something reminding him of Price, the only person who could possibly erase the never ending aggravation at this point.

"Aye, sure did. You, uh, helped Price put it together?" Soap asked, quickly refilling a cup on the table opposite of Gaz's, the guy at the table looked at him with one eye squinted, no doubt having overheard their conversation. Soap had lost count how many times he'd received that same expression from a customer today.

"You better believe it, I even helped him pick the thing out. I'm an avid cat man." Gaz said after a long gulp of coffee.

"Gaz...you don't own a cat." Soap said raising his brow.

"But I thought about it good and plenty before!"

"Doesn't sodding count."

"Gaz!" A booming, excited voice shouted from across the shop, startling several customers, and Soap, in the process.

"Simon g'damn Riley!" Gaz shouted back, a huge, obnoxious grin breaking on his face, all of his teeth showing.

They did the same greeting every time, no matter the setting, no matter the time, no matter what. Even if they'd just seen each other yesterday. And they did.

Ghost's eyes snapped to the table as he made his way over to them.

"What the bloody hell is wrong with ya mate?! Coffee and not _THE GAZ_?" Ghost shouted, outraged and confused by Gaz's choice of beverage for the day.

Typically Gaz ordered the tea that was a blatant nod to him and his well known love for watermelon. The brew was something special Soap put together for the first time he met Gaz, watermelon, hint of mint, and strawberry. Gaz was addicted to the shit, drank it by the gallons, usually, so Soap was a little surprised as well that he didn't order it.

"Must be mental today, but I couldn't tell ya. Needed the extra burst of caffeine I suppose. Price woke me up so bloody early the other morning to help him with Soap's gift." Gaz replied, drinking down the rest of his coffee.

Soap froze, stunned and gave a look to Gaz, telling him to stop talking _please_. He was not ready to break the news like this, Gaz looked confused, but then realization crossed his features and he nodded at Soap.

"Gift? Oooh do tell, MacTavish." Ghost said, glancing over to Soap.

"Never mind that bollocks, did you catch that special on the military channel last night? Bloody sweet hell those shotguns were lovely. And that Black Label 1911-22? I'd consider marryin' one, M'serious." Gaz said, distracting the other Brit with talk of guns, Soap let out a relieved breath he didn't know he was holding in. Thankfully Gaz wasn't _as much_ of a numpty as Ghost was.

"I can see it now, Gaz and the pistol, a match made in armory heaven." Ghost grinned down at Gaz, his smile nearly identical to his much loved skull balaclava that was absent from his face.

"Did that come on last night? Damn, I missed it." Soap grumbled, he hoped that Price recorded that on the TV so they could revel in the beauty of high impact weapons together, before putting their own..'high impact weapons together' in a much different way.

"Oh, I'm sure you had your hands full." Ghost muttered, doing a suggestive jacking motion with his hand and purposely failing at concealing it.

"And his mouth too, no doubt." Gaz added, the two of them busting out laughing.

Then again...Soap took back his previous thought, Gaz was just as bad as Ghost. The two of them meeting and becoming the best of friends was clearly an accurate and horrifying predication by Price. He backed away from the pair before he committed double homicide.

* * *

After several hours of putting up with Ghost's excessive sexual remarks at his expense, Soap needed an escape, today definitely called for a smoke break, for the only art he could imagine sketching up in his journal at the moment were violent images of Ghost being mangled by wild dogs. Earlier in the day, only explicit images of Price pressed down into the couch would serve as his inspiration. Maybe when he got home he'd put those...ideas to paper. Or act them out again, either would be fine.

Soap pushed the creak-free front door of the shop open, shooting a frown at the chiming bells, if only he could persuade Ghost and Roach that those things were utterly pointless and, not to mention, infuriating. He stepped out into the edging on brisk air of the outside, glad that he had his scarf for more...conventional reasons. When he walked over to his typical spot on the wall, he noticed Roach walking back and forth on the dried leaf covered sidewalk, worrying at his bottom lip, his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his hoodie and the hood pulled up over his sandy blonde hair. Soap hadn't seen it earlier in the day, but it appeared that Roach had a slight 5 o'clock shadow on his face, something out of place for the regularly grooming young man.

Soap furrowed his brows in concern. "You alright, Roach?"

Roach spun around to face him, looking shocked for a moment, his bottom lip was red from the gnawing on it. "Oh..um, yeah...I mean...no. I don't know." He struggled to get out, Soap could see his hands wriggling about inside his pockets.

"Can't really help with anything if you don't tell me. Unless you don't want to tell me, just let me know and I'll back off." Soap told him with a shrug, walking over to lean on the brick wall.

Roach opened and closed his mouth a few times, looking like a freckled fish, the beginning syllables of several words almost making their way into coherency, his hands flinged out of his pockets and pushed his the hood on his jacket down. Scratching at his barely there prickly facial hair, he began, "It's...Simon is a complete ass sometimes."

"Sometimes? Did you hear him earlier? Telling the entire bloody damned coffee shop about me and Price's...never mind." Soap said, slapping his gloved hand over his forehead deciding it was best to not continue explaining. "What'd he do to upset you, if you don't mind me asking?"

Roach looked grateful to have someone to confide in, his bottled up annoyances of the day came pouring out, "He's bugging me today, no pun intended..., he woke me up by jumping on the bed and singing some remix of 'My Girl'...'My Bug', then with Hellrasier, ya know, feeding him a fucking muffin... And, before opening, when I was in the back prepping some batter for my apple cinnamon muffins, he stuck his unwashed finger in it to taste the batter, twice, which made the whole fucking thing unsanitary, so I had to toss it. Then, after, he said he'd make it up to me, by taking me in the back room and showing me a 'good time'. He knows I'm now behind 3 batches of muffins and 2 batches of bagels. I'm..exhausted." The words flew from Roach's mouth, as he paced around, pulling at his red RSASS and Shine hoodie before he slumped to the concrete sidewalk, running his hands through his short and messy blonde hair.

"Huh, sounds like you're having a rough day, mate." Soap said sympathetically, pulling a cigar from his leather jacket, he was still wearing his apron, making him look a little ridiculous, but he couldn't care less. He patted at the front of his pockets, searching for his lighter. "Damned lighter..how the bloody hell do I always lose it." Soap muttered under his breath.

Roach reached in his hoodie's pocket and pulled out a lighter that most certainly belonged to Ghost, the younger man, to his knowledge, didn't smoke. Roach flipped the clear purple lighter in his hands, "Here." He said shortly, jutting his chin at it and tossing the lighter to Soap.

Soap caught it, nodding a silent thank you to his friend, he cupped the bottom of the cigar with a hand and flicked the lighter, breathing in as the flame lit the cigar. His eyes closed for a moment as he sucked in deeply, and blew out slowly, imaging how Price looked doing it after a long night of sex, the memory was stirring and heated his skin, so he pushed it out of his head, for the moment at least, and let the smell of the smoke fool him into believing that Price was with him.

"Rough day..you got that right..all that other crap on top of..one of Simon's old flings pounding on our door last night. Fuck, do you have a cig?" Roach asked desperately, his eyes wide.

"No..don't use those anymore, Price bloody spoils me with these." Soap said, tapping on the side of the cigar, loose ashes falling to the ground. "Besides, mate, you don't even smoke. Now what were you saying, one of Ghost's old hook ups showed up at home?" He asked, cringing internally, no way that could have ended well.

"Yeah! Guy was fucking shit-faced, practically threw himself at Simon, I nearly threw him onto a passing car for that. Must have shown up for a booty-call, I don't know.." Roach stuttered, crossing and uncrossing his arms over his chest.

"What did Ghost do?"

"He told him, 'sod off, I'm unavailable..very much so', then he kissed me and slammed the door in the guy's face." Roach said blankly. "Call me crazy, but I find it hard to be turned on after one of your boyfriend's old friends with benefits shows up." He added flippantly, his hands waving in the air.

"I'm sorry that happened..can't imagine how that must've felt.." Soap said sympathetically, the cigar hanging at his side.

"It sucked really bad and it made me pissed, that's how it felt." Roach snapped, rubbing the back of his neck and averting his gaze, not really directing his outburst of irritation at Soap.

"Everything can't always be perfect mate." Soap offered with a roll of his shoulders.

"I know that...and I don't expect it to be. It's a a relationship, not fairy tale." Roach muttered.

"And despite his past and all of his general..numpty-arse-ness, you still think he's the most amazing guy ever right?"

"Of course I do." Roach blurted out, he began picking at his fingers, and cracking his knuckles.

"What's the real problem, then?" Soap asked, sensing there was more bothering Roach than he led on.

"I — it's stupid." Roach started, rubbing at the back of his neck with a hand, "But, sometimes I worry he'll get bored of me, miss his old life..." He flicked a pebble on the concrete, watching as it reached the street with a spin. "It's not fair for me to hold that against him though, it's his past, he can't change it now..and it's his past that made him the guy I love... Fuck, man. I hate that it gets to me so much sometimes." Roach grumbled, scratching the top of his head, Soap could see traces of flour on the under parts of the younger man's forearms.

Soap stared down at him, taking care to control his reaction, even if the words did made him a little shocked. Taking a long drag from the cigar and blowing out, he squinted at Roach. "Mate, Ghost is bloody crazy for you. He doesn't miss his old life, believe me. He's still living it, doing all the same shite as before, just in a different way. Instead of some random guy, it's with the one person that he loves, the only one he's ever loved. You know he loves you Roach, more than anyone ever think a guy like him is capable of. That's not gonna change, you have nothing to worry about." Soap told him softly.

"I guess you're right."

"Damn right I am. Look, Roach..Ghost may have told you stories about his life before, the things he's done, but...I was there, I saw how he was, when it came to love he was cold, unfeeling, but then you came along with your 'freckles, American-ness, funny, sweet, gorgeous, greenest eyes he's ever seen in his life', hey that's quoting him almost directly, by the way." Soap said with a chuckle at the bewildered look on Roach's face. "What I'm getting at is, you changed him, ah, fuck changing sounds bad because he's still himself..." Soap paused and puffed at his cigar for a moment, thinking of the right words. "You just made..him..believe again." Soap continued, his words slowed at the ending, thoughts clicked into place as he realized the similarities of Ghost and Roach's relationship to his and Price's.

Not too long ago, Price said that Soap helped him believe again, in love, just as Roach did for Ghost. The thought made a small smile tug on his lips. Ghost and Price had their own reasons and excuses as to why love wasn't for them or wasn't worth the risk or effort, but they found a reason, a person worth the uncertainty, worth diving headfirst into unknown waters. That's all you needed, the one person who gave you the strength to not be afraid. Ghost was made to believe in love for the first time and Price had lost hope to find it again...but did when he was least expecting it.

Soap wasn't sure how long they stood in silence there outside the shop, but it was long enough for him to nearly finish his cigar, but not long enough for the soft expression on Roach's face to disappear, Soap couldn't decipher it, it looked like a million scenarios were running through the younger man's head, a million emotions being processed. But he looked..happy, content, and fuck...he was goddamn glowing too, just like Ghost once said he looked when he first fell for Price.

Roach cleared his throat, his face changed, a determined look in place now, he jaw set in a defined way, like he worked something out in his head. "I don't know how to thank you, dude...you..helped me a lot. I needed to hear all that. What would I do without you here to talk me through this shit, man?" Roach said with a half grin, fully shown in his eyes. He jumped up from the concrete and gave Soap a quick friendly hug, he pulled away and stepped back.

The Scotsman laughed throatily and patted Roach on the shoulder. "No problem, mate, anytime you need a pep talk, I'm here." Soap assured him, feeling on the front of his own coat, the velvet box with the key to his and Price's home, he held his palm there for a moment, considering if now was the right time to tell him that he was moving out.

Roach broke his train of thought. "Never got to ask! How was your anniversary? Get any gifts?" He asked. Roach certainly looked like his usual self, bright and happy, friendly and beaming like the bloody sun, if Ghost was here right now he'd be swooning, then would probably grab his ass and throw him over his shoulder...defile the back room of the shop yet again.

Soap cleared his throat and moved his hand away from the shape of the box under his coat, and crossed his arms. "Uh, I, yeah, Price made me dinner...my gift to him was not help cook anything and do some prep work. We made this promise in the beginning, if we're gonna celebrate monthly anniversaries, then no gifts. Not until a monumental anniversary, I guess." Soap lied easily enough, feeling a little guilty about it.

"Isn't your sixth month anniversary a little bit of a big deal, dude?"

"Aye, but..being with him is enough. That's the only thing I want. Not a bloody gift." Soap stated simply, though the words held much more than a one dimension confession. A warm smile spread over his features thinking back to Price beaming over at him in his - their house, brimming with emotion and love, the look on his face reserved for him, only him.

"Damn, you are cheesy, aren't you?"

"You better believe it, I'm as cheesy as a goddamn Scottish quesadilla." Soap gave him a wide grin, patting at his heart.

Roach practically slapped his hand on his forhead. "That made no sense. At all." Roach said, choking back a laugh.

Soap had to agree, and chuckled, shaking his head. "Breaks over, Roach, let's go."

"It's lunch, dude."

"What I meant to say was, smoke/emotional break-through break is over, Roach, lunch break is now the priority, so let's bloody go."

* * *

Good thing Price planned ahead and packed a sufficient amount of leftovers from last night's dinner for lunch the next day, for the moment he broke out the plastic container from the fridge Ghost manifested himself directly behind him, living up to the name, and was sniffing...loudly. He could see Roach in the corner of his eyes too. The two of them like a pack of hungry lions, ready to pounce on _his_ lunch from _his and Price's_ anniversary dinner.

"Yeah, yeah don't worry, there's enough for the lot of ya, bloody scavengers." Soap mumbled, getting two more plates and shoving them into Ghost's hands.

"Bless Price's bloody soul, if he were here right now, I'd kiss 'em." Ghost said, swishing his hand up to waft the aroma of the pasta to his nose.

"You know...you say that often enough where I think I should be worried.." Soap said, eyeing him.

"Tell me about it.." Roach said under his breath beside him, neatly sticking a bite of food in his mouth, unlike Ghost, who was shoveling it in as if he hadn't eaten a meal in months, pieces sticking to the side of his mouth.

"Oi, Lovebug, you know my heart belongs to you, forever and always.." Ghost professed lovingly, his hand was held over the center of his chest, and it would have been very romantic and sweet if it wasn't for the food still compacted in his mouth, practically spilling out on the sides of it.

Soap bit back the distaste that arose at seeing the gross display, Roach, however, was used to it, and wasn't even slightly bothered by his boyfriend's terrible table manners. Anytime he'd see a smear of sauce on the side of Ghost's mouth, he'd stick his thumb out and wipe it away, licking it clean off his thumb and every time, Ghost would give Roach the lewdest expression ever, like this meal was their form of foreplay. Goddamn. This is why they never ate at the table together. But wait, this meal technically _was_ a form of foreplay, Soap clearly remembered last night and how eating it led right into... _fucking incredible_ sex. He nearly choked on a piece of chicken when he thought of the loud cry he drew out of Price last night, but Ghost and Roach were too caught up in each other's eyes to notice.

After they ate, Soap somehow managing to keep his food down with their...unique style of eating and his own dirty flashbacks to last night and a particularly amazing morning shower, he excused himself and told his friends that he'd clean up the shop to get ready for re-opening, knowing that they needed some time alone to talk things over.

He gave them 15 minutes, but they needed to reopen, so he walked back into the back room, peeking in. He saw Ghost with his arms around Roach, and Roach's hands on his face, the two of them speaking in whispers to each other, nuzzling their noses together. Soap couldn't help but smile, they were alright, they worked it out. Actually, that was an understatement, they were bloody radiant, eyes fixed on each other as Roach brushed his fingers over Ghost's jaw, leaning up on his toes to kiss his boyfriend, it starts soft, comforting, and sweet, like Roach sealed his very self into it, but it turns raunchier fast, hands moving down to asses, and that's when Soap backed away from the doorway, walking back into the main room and glanced over to his and Price's table, their table, the whole time his thoughts were locked in on Price, on sitting on the couch, falling into his arms, into his smile, into him. The time on his watch read **1:41**.


	4. Operation: Procrastination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you asked Soap, the reason why he hasn't broken the news to Ghost and Roach about moving out is...circumstance, and completely not his fault. If you asked Price...there was one thing to blame; Soap's unspoken, but clearly obvious, motto of "Maybe later..." to anything that wasn't sex. This was going to be a long week.

The end of the day couldn't come fast enough, between a post-lunch rush of customers (bringing with it a new record of five "customer 69"s today, bloody idiots...) and Ghost's constant...'state' of being so very charming and completely appropriate during professional work hours, also known as typical Simon Riley, was gradually pushing Soap over the brink of insanity. And if he had to hear those goddamn chiming bells above the shop's door one more time he'd resort to using his coffee pot as some sort of improvised grenade or IED. It was possible, Ghost and him have watched plenty of ' _DIY Post-Zombie Apocalypse Prep_ ' shows because they needed all the ideas they could get working in a coffee shop. Alas, Soap resisted committing a federal offense, on top of first degree murder of his best friend (a harrowing daily task), and instead tried to focus on the boxed key in his pocket and what it meant; that he had a home, an escape, and a pretty damn relaxing boyfriend who's mere presence was akin to a warm hug around his nerves, melting away any and all stresses, easily able to make him forget about hectic friends during more than hectic days. Roach wasn't much help for after their talk, with his renewed burst of happiness and positivity, he was back to practically reaching third or fourth base with Ghost against the bakery display case. Thank god he collected enough self-control to stop before Ghost lowered his hands to the top of his pants. 

Soap was seriously considering that tip jar for their PDA sessions, at least they waited until the shop was practically deserted before they turned into complete exhibitionist porn stars with no common knowledge to words like 'decency' and ' _keep it in your pants until you're in your sodding bedroom_ '. To top it all off, it was apparent that a group of young college girls and one guy learned the pattern, because every day they were open, sure enough they'd be there, 3:41 pm on the dot, sitting in the right side table, doing the most piss poor job of secretly gawking at Ghost and Roach as they were making out. The group of perpetually horny youth barely gave Soap a second look as he took their orders, except for the redhead girl in the bunch, she had an blatant crush on Soap that made him a considerably uncomfortable under her deer in a headlights stare when he asked her what she wanted to get, but just like the rest of her perverted friends feigning their study break, her eyes were transfixed on Ghost and Roach the second he was back at his station. If his friends didin't approve of the tip jar idea, perhaps they'd consider adding 'Peep Show' to the menu, they'd easily be able to pay their rent for the shop in a single day's earnings, and Soap would certainly take, at the very least, 30% for himself due to the emotional damages and all the therapy he needs. Not that it'd do anything to erase the memories, Soap's seen horrifying things taken place against a baking rack.

The only saving grace was the fact that they changed RSASS and Shine's closing time to 5pm, and they went from being open every day, to six days of the week. Meaning that Soap had one day to laze away in bed till he couldn't stand it anymore, not that he could get up even if he wanted to when Price was wrapped around behind him like a human equivalent of sticky paper (and Soap thought _he_ was the octopus sleeper) and Hellraiser planted himself on top of them both, laid with his paws tucked under, there was no chance he was moving until they did first. It was that thought, one of a warm and quiet Saturday morning with his little family that made a nearly insufferable work day, tolerable all over again.

Having endured the majority of the day, Soap leaned his lower back on the counter, although granite wasn't the most forgiving on it, and sketched up a rough scratched image inside his journal of his cat, Hellraiser, napping inside of Price's boonie hat while the last customers of the day took advantage of every last second before closing time. The napping incident happened a couple nights ago and Price is still unable to take the hat back. The stubborn cat claimed it as his new favored sleeping spot. Price found it hard to be upset when Soap was chuckling and taking photos to post on Hellraiser's Twitter, not that the mildly overweight white and grey hairball of a cat has his own account. He does. Damn Ghost and his drunken ideas. Damn him even more because Hellraiser surpasses Soap in the follower department by over a hundred, so he has to keep it updated just for that. Admittedly, he doesn't mind showing off his precious ball of fluff. Ghost has a fairly large fan following on the site due to his famous skull balaclava wearing ways. Although Soap is well known for the almost daily sketches he uploads and little poems he posts, most about Price, he also makes sure to post a significant amount of photos of him with Price so it's obvious that he's a taken man. Some of his followers are quite persistent, thankfully, unlike Soap, Price isn't a jealous man. There was a chance he's just quiet about it...but Price was confident and Soap certainly didn't refrain from displaying how much he loved and wanted him at any available moment. Ghost is always calling Soap a "damn hipster" because of his Twitter postings, whatever the hell that means. He figures that if Ghost thinks it's a bad thing, then it must be the opposite. Or that's what he tells himself.

"Come _on_ , 72! Bob or whatever the bloody hell your name is. We're closing in," Ghost paused to lean over the counter and crane his neck to check out the clock, he squinted to read the small ticking hand. "20 seconds. Don't you think you've spiked your blood pressure enough with the past 13 cups of damned coffee!? Think of your wife, mate! How would she feel if you keeled over in our shop?" Ghost shouted to the poor guy in the corner with flippant hand movements, the skull mask on his face made his voice slightly muffled, but no less loud or intimidating if you didn't know him well enough.

Soap was interrupted from his peaceful little world of art and sighed, closing the journal and slipping it into his trouser pocket, he gave an apologetic smile to the customer who's eyes were wide and bulging, not just from the excessive caffeine any longer, his frazzled and thinning short brown hair stuck up from all the anxious touching and there was a solid dozen lines on his forehead. It was comical enough for Soap to bite back a burst of laughter at the man's expense, but he controlled it, molding his face into a stern expression.

"Hey, Ghost, think you could refrain from being the cause of the heart attack?" Soap said in his best 'captainly' voice to Ghost, with a look of pure doneness. "I think dropping the wife bomb was overdoing it a bit, eh?"

"Yeah, yeah you're right, _sir_. Dunno, Soap, it's just this bloody man...yesterday he tried to kill himself with espresso! And he's in here today drinking up enough coffee for a whole damn fraternity!" Ghost went on as if the customer wasn't in the same room.

The man in question was literally shaking from the buzz and dropped some pounds on the table before fleeing out of the shop with a chorus of bells. Soap rolled his eyes and glared at the bells, his mouth crooked as he looked back to his friend.

"Now the bloke is off to the pub, no doubt." Ghost said under his breath, shaking his head.

"Of course he is." Soap affirmed, shaking his head as well.

"Wonder how long it'll be before his wife shows up with a cardiac arrest kit?" Ghost asked, the two of them looked to the door then back at each other.

"We'll be out of here before then, let's get our shite together." Soap grunted, untying his apron faster than he ever has in his entire life.

"Did 72 _finally_ leave?" Roach called from the back room, the clanking sounds of pans hitting together carried all the way to the front of the cafe.

"Roger that, we're in the clear, Lovebug!" Ghost informed him, pulling his red sunglasses out from his shirt pocket and slipping them on his face, all while wiggling his brows. "If you'll excuse me, I'll be helping Bug gather up food for Nikolai and Yuri." He informed Soap while walking to the back, patting him once on the chest on the way out. Soap knew, just fucking knew, that Ghost had a damn cheeky grin on his face the entire time.

"Uh-huh, I'm sure that's exactly what you'll be doing...bloody moron." Soap mumbled with a roll of his eyes. He looked over the main room of the shop and found it was fairly tidied up already, Soap had been on top of his cleaning game, thanks to him avoiding Ghost at all costs the whole day. He pulled the apron over his head and left it on the end of the counter.

The table previous occupied by the infamous heart attack waiting to happen was littered with his single coffee cup that had been re-filled for hours, a plate with remnants from a mocha crumb SCAR cookie, and a scattered newspaper. Soap glanced at the newspaper with no real interest, that was until he caught sight of a familiar figure on a photograph along with an article. _Fucking Kingfish._ What the hell was Vladimir Makarov of all people doing in the paper? Did he kill someone? It seemed he was heading down that path anyways. Soap leaned in closer, a simple photograph caused a violent reaction of irritation to flood through him, he never really completely got over the months of hell that he was put through thanks to the Russian man with his creepy eyes and nasally voice and altogether arsehole-ness. Soap picked up the paper, despite the part of him that wanted to torch the bastard's picture, but he couldn't help wanting to get a closer look because the other half of him was piqued with a budding curiosity that drove his nerves a little bit into overdrive. His scarred brow arched at the title of the side article:

**_'Out of town man, Vladimir Makarov, invests in several local Hereford businesses'_ **

Ah, he should have known that it was unrealistic and too good to be true to believe that Price's damn near knock out punch would've driven Kingfish right out of England and back to Russia. In fact, judging by the content in the article, it seemed Makarov was intending to stay, and for quite a while at that. Apparently he was a big shot back in Russia, funded quite a few Russian military arms weaponry. Why was he moving on from that to...lifting up broken down companies and charities? Seemed like an odd transition.

The shop's front door bells went off again, and it would have been enough for Soap to groan in frustration any other time, but he knew just who it was. The very person he needed to see at this moment. Soap allowed the newspaper to fall from his hands and land on the table as he turned around, standing there in the opening archway was none other than sexy bloody professor 141 himself, Price, a grey pack with a stitched RSASS and Shine logo on the center was slinged across his chest, his hat looked like it had been adjusted to the point where it was all askew atop his head, and he appeared as exhausted as Soap felt, but nonetheless there was a smile on his face as he walked over to Soap.

"Well look who it is, eh? You're a sight for sore eyes. You missed our lunch date...John." Soap tsks with a smirk, crossing his arms with an expectant look on his face.

"I know," Price sighed out and slipped his arms around Soap as if he wanted to collapse into his him, just in case Soap returns the embrace and flexes his muscles a bit to to catch his weight, if necessary, good thing he remained dedicated to those push ups and pull ups. Price leaned down for a greeting kiss, it was gentle, warm, and wonderful, the two of them shared a deep exhale of relief at the contact. Soap's only complaint was that it was too short. Then again, any kiss that didn't lead into them being naked was always too chaste and tame. "I wanted to be here, love, really I did. But between the mountain of paperwork and the endless rambling of Kamarov, I was swamped. Utterly and hopelessly swamped." He explained with a tired and vaguely guilty smile.

"It's fine, Pri, I can completely relate..." Soap mumbled, now he leans into the hug, all but being held up by Price, it seemed the tables have turned.

"Long day?" Price asked, his hands moved up to Soap's shoulders, giving them a firm squeeze and rub.

Soap sighs into Price's neck, rather, into the scarf around it. "You could say that, easily one of the longest of my entire goddamn life." He pulled away and pressed another kiss to Price's lips, then to the edge of his jaw, purposely, just to feel his beard prickle on his face.

"M'sorry I couldn't be here to take the edge off..or take you to the back room and make you forget about it for a little while." Price said with a suggestive raise of his brows.

"Price, I told you what goes on the red chair back there, I don't ever want to sit on that thing ever again."

"Who said anything about being in a chair? We put the walls to good use, don't we?" Price murmured in Soap's ear before he nibbled on the edge of it.

Soap shuddered and retrained himself from fully melting into Price's arms from his light bite and smooth yet rough voice that was damn melodic and soothing to his ears. He nodded once. "Aye, that's true. Chairs are damned overrated."

Soap wasn't sure what the hell he was thinking by insinuating making out with Price right in the middle of the dining area of the shop when Ghost was still here, but despite the poor timing, Soap felt Price's hands lower to the top of his pants, grabbing his belt and pulling hard, lurching him forward, setting Soap off to put a hand on the back of Price's head and bringing him down into a kiss so fast that his hat nearly flew off his head. It was a sweet few seconds of sensual bliss, the only thing on Soap's mind was getting this man home into bed, either home, either bed, just in one and naked, right now preferably. But just as Price dared to tease under the band of Soap's trousers, a loud and over-done clearing throat was heard.

"Well well well, if it isn't Soap and his boyfriend, Professor Freak! Can't refrain from heavily groping in the middle of the shop." Ghost said with a bark of laughter. Soap's eyes flew open but he didn't break away from Price just yet as he took in the sight of Ghost standing with his mask was pulled up to the bridge of his sharp angled nose, even with his sunglasses Soap could see the pointed stare given to both Soap and Price's scarves around their necks, his hands rested on his hips. Price and Soap broke away from their kiss and slowly turned to the chuckling Brit by the display cases, irritating Soap enough to make him have the intense desire to shove his friend into the very case he was leaned on and put up a sign, 'Free to a good home'. Not too good of a home though, Ghost didn't deserve that much kindness, not right now at least.

Soap shot him a glare. "Look who's talking, you were all but on third base with Roach earlier, so shove off, you sodding moron." Soap said with the smallest pinch of venom, only the smallest. His annoyance only served to amuse Ghost greater, his laughter increased in volume.

"Professor Freak? What the bloody hell is Ghost on about this time?" Price asked quietly, bowing his head to Soap.

With a deep grunt, Soap pointed to scarf on his neck, the corner of his mouth turned downward in a frown, a look of understanding flashed on Price's face.

"Bollocks, not you too." Price uttered with a groan, a hand slapped on his forehead and dragged down the side of his face.

"Are you telling me that someone saw yours?" Soap's frown shifted to the other side of his mouth, his eyes close as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Obviously their plan to stay 'discreet' and 'decent' with scarves didn't go to well.

Price closed his eyes and nodded. "Gaz." Was all he said, it explained everything, from the slump of his shoulders and the extra crease between his brows. "Pulled my scarf off right in the middle of the teacher's lounge. Made quite the scene."

So the concealing plan would have worked then, if not for their friends. Times like these Soap wished that it was legal to strangle someone, in the most friendly way, you know, teach them a lesson.

"Ah, it all makes sense." Soap's hand waved in the air. "Ghost did something similar..." He paused to frown over at his friend, who shrugged like it was no big deal. "Nothing like best mates, eh? Not sure if you wanna murder them or name your first born after 'em." Soap pondered with pursed lips for a moment before concluding, "Murdering them is always damned close to winning out most of the time."

Price chuckled deeply and kissed the peak of hair on the top of Soap's forehead. "I can't say I disagree with you there...I won't mention how many times a stapler has almost becoming the leading evidence in a homicide."

"Oi! If Gaz and me weren't in your lives, you'd be the miserable old gits, admit it! We bring you joy and light heartedness. You know you love us. Right?" Ghost walked over with a ridiculous pep in his step and put an arm around both of the men's shoulders and shook them, pulling them in closer and looking to each of them with a wide grin. Soap shook his head slowly with a sarcastic smile and slipped out from under Ghost's arm, pulling Price by the hand with him. "...Right?" Ghost shouted after them.

Ignoring Ghost, Soap led Price to their table in the corner, and slumped down in the chair. He ran his fingers through his mohawk as Price sat across from him, not even a second later his hand reached out on the the table and took Soap's free hand in his own, Soap smiled serenely over at him, yeah, he felt relaxed now, fucking peaceful, all thanks to his infuriatingly attractive boyfriend with that smirk of his, no matter how tired it looked, it was still there and firmly in place, not smug, but warm and soft.

"Ugh, sorry 'bout Ghost...he's on a roll with being a complete arse today." Soap muttered, shaking his head.

"Don't worry about it, I'm used to it, him and Gaz are two sides of the same coin." Price brought Soap's hand up to his mouth and kissed his knuckle, keeping it close after.

"Sadly, they are. A diabolical duo of pure torment, hell bent on driving us insane."

"At least we have each other." Price said simply, and fuck, it meant everything to Soap, that statement, that fact right there, that they weren't alone, and had each other at the end of a tiring day. "That and a glass of Oban 14."

"Or three. But anyways, thank god for that, I don't know what I'd do without you..." Sometimes, when Soap was feeling down, he'd think back to the days before Price walked through the coffee shop's, then squeaky, door. Life wasn't much different then, not when it came to putting up with Ghost and working, but every other part was, he wasn't unhappy in the least before, but he was a little lonely and didn't have anyone to confide in completely, unless you counted his cat and journal, and most wouldn't. Now, fuck, now he had it all. Soap stroked his thumb just below Price's lips, a smile edged on his mouth as he did so, it felt good to have this, to have Price, and Soap could see it in his eyes that he was thinking the same.

Roach appeared in the doorway to the backroom, now free of flour and not a sandy blonde hair out of place, which meant that him and Ghost were definitely making out in the back room, as usual, and he attempted to fix the mess that his boyfriend left on his head a little too much, a dead give-away.

"Price! Hey, man." Roach greeted Price brightly, his face was flushed but he didn't seem to notice or care as he walked over to them, his smile was a complete 180 from the weak and forced one he was met with when he first saw Roach that very morning, apparently whatever he worked out in his head after Soap's pep-talk was something good. Very.

The romantic moment between Soap and Price was lost, not that Roach ever arose much, if any, irritation with Soap, so he didn't mind. But it probably appeared all very sappy to anyone witnessing Soap and Price staring at each other the way they were, Price backed his face away just the slightest amount, but kept his hold on Soap's right hand.

"Hello, Roach. Long day for you too?" Price propped his free hand under his chin and smiled up at the younger man.

"It started that way, but it, uh, got better. A lot." Roach answered, his smile grew as he looked over to Ghost, who was by the table Soap was intending to clean up before he was interrupted by the dammed newspaper, the one that was in Ghost's hand at that very moment. Roach practically beamed over at him before returning his attention to Soap and Price. "What about you? You look like you're ready to take a nap on that table." Roach observed with a mildly concerned expression.

"That's because there's a good chance I might, lad. Kamarov striked again." Price mumbled dryly. That explained a lot to Roach, everyone knew that Gaz wasn't the only nuisance in Price's life, though Kamarov was the only unwelcome one. Soap squeezed his hand in sympathy.

"Kamarov? Oh shit, sorry about that, man, that's rough. What was he bugging you about this time?" Roach asked, scratching the side of his nose. Soap was honestly curious too, ever since Gaz told him earlier that Kamarov, the Dean at the college, was one of the main reasons to blame for Price's absence at lunchtime.

Price visibly tensed, his shoulders bunched up the smallest bit and his grip tightened on Soap's hand. "Everything, really. He's a little behind on my dating life...first, he managed to forget my sexual orientation and tried to set me up with his sister's friend, that was exceedingly uncomfortable, to say the least, I silenced that pretty fast by showing him the photo of Soap and me on my desk. Then, he repetitively insisted that I go to one of his dinner parties and bring Soap as my date." Price answered with a look that may have appeared blank and monotonous to most, but Soap could see the pure horror in his eyes at the prospect of being dragged to one of Kamarov's vodka-soaked get-togethers. Soap's heard all the stories from both Gaz and Price, and none made the idea of attending one appealing in the least.

"Damn, he's still all up in your personal life?" Roach asked with a disbelieving scoffed laugh.

"As always, yes."

Soap let out a deep woosh of air and gave Price a small, sympathetic smile. "And here I thought my day was rough..." Soap said under his breath before leaning across the table to kiss Price as swiftly as he could manage and still include all the necessary comforts he surely needed, his cupped the side of Price's face and dragged his thumb down the side of his jaw, Price returned the smile and let himself fall into the gentle touch and kissed Soap's hand.

Price reached over and mussed with the stubborn piece of Soap's hair, the cursed lock that was giving Soap hell that very same morning, limply laid on his forehead, before saying, "It's fine,...I'm used to his gossipy and intrusive ways after suffering through the bollocks for nearly 12 years."

Roach made a choking noise from beside them. "12 years of Kamarov...dude, that's brutal. Being locked up in a Russian prison sounds easier to deal with than that." Roach commented from the sidelines, a grimace crossed on his features. Soap was surprised to hear this coming from a man who puts up with Ghost every single day, and chooses to on top of it all.

Price had to laugh at that. "Join the bloody queue, lad. It's not just me, everyone at the Uni is driven crazy by him... Gaz and I have even talked about starting a group therapy for those affected by Kamarov."

"Shite, I feel like I need it just from hearing stories about him." Soap mumbled, Roach nodded fervently from the side. "So what did you tell him when he asked you to come to the dinner?"

"I was tempted to say, 'I would rather have my entire beard waxed off, hair by hair, than be present during your drunken ramblings one more time', but I'd like to keep my job, plus I'm clearly far too much of a gentleman to say such things." Price said pushing his deadpan expression to its full extent.

"Too right, Price. Always a sodding gentleman..." Soap grumbled, rolling his eyes. Roach looked confused by Soap minor grumpy expression, Price knew exactly what was wrong and smirked deeply.

"Hmm...if this is about the whole opening doors first thing, then, better luck...never." Price teased with a wink.

"I will get it, just you wait, one day you'll be an old man and won't be on top of your game." Soap said, pointing his finger at Price.

Price winced at the nickname. "Ouch, an old man? Who's to say I'm not already an old man?"

"Well, you're an older man, not exactly an old man... _old man_." Soap teased right back, copying the wink.

Price grunted in slight annoyance. "Why do I have a feeling this is the start of a new thing?"

Just as Soap saw fit to inform Price that, yes, this was going to be his new affectionate nickname, Ghost rushed over, almost flapping his arms around like the madman he was, the newspaper was held in his grasp, and Soap could see that his eyes were wide under his red-tinted sunglasses.

"Bloody hell, mates, did you see this load of bollocks? Makarov's buying half the town! This is awful...this miserable arsehole is determined to be the dark cloud over this lovely city. I can only imagine strolling down the street only to be met with signs on buildings with this wanker's face. Stuff of nightmares, I'm tellin' ya." Ghost shuddered and peered at the picture of Makarov again, making excessive gagging noises.

"Yeah, I saw the article. Fucking Kingfish, eh? Just when you think you're rid of the muppet. And, Ghost...since when do you 'stroll around'?" Soap asked with a blank expression.

"Ey, I do my fair share of strollin', collect my thoughts, contemplate the meaning of life, all that deep stuff." Ghost defended, though it wasn't a very convincing display since he kept shifting his weight on his feet like he was stepping on hot coals. "Come on, Lovebug, tell the git that I stroll." He said, walking over to Roach and wrapping an arm around his waist.

"Right, suuure, you stroll all the time, Simon..." Roach muttered sarcastically, his eyes almost going cross eyed at the exaggeration. Ghost was about to open his mouth in protest but Roach took the newspaper from his hands and skimmed over the title and the article. "What the fuck, Kingfish is a businessman?"

"Makes sense with all those fancy suits he wore all the damn time..couldn't be wearing them just to impress us." Soap mumbled, moving uncomfortably in his chair at the discussion of his former arch nemeses, he could still remember the way his expensive suits scraped on his hands as he purposely bumped into him. Price made a noise of agreement and nodded to the paper, reaching out with the hand not twined with Soap's, Roach handed it over to him. Price quickly read through the article, looking at it with significant distaste.

"Those stuffy suits weren't so fancy after good 'Ol Price socked him in the nose and splatted it with blood, oh man, that was the greatest moment of my life, I love you, mate." Ghost snickered, slapping a hand on Price's back. Price chuckled quietly, Soap rolled his eyes and scoffed out a laugh, but he was far from annoyed, the memory brought him great pleasure as well. Next to Ghost, Roach cleared his throat with an expectant stare, Ghost mouthed the word 'What?', to which Roach responded with a lopsided frown, finally Ghost worked out what he meant. "Ok, ok, not _the_ greatest moment of my life, but it was pretty bloody close." He corrected, earning himself a resigned sigh from Roach and a kiss on the cheek a second later, Ghost grinned cheesily at his boyfriend.

Would you look at that, for once they weren't being excessively raunchy, Soap threaded carefully on the thought, because, at any moment, the sex-crazed wheels in Ghost's head (not that his or Price's were any better) would start turning and — bam — Roach would jump on him and they'd stumble into the backroom. It wouldn't be the first time it's happened and, much to Soap's grief, it probably wouldn't be the last.

"Ah, not one of the best displays for someone who's made it through anger management, I assure you." Price put out with a shrug, but there was a smug smile on his face, clearly he didn't have any regrets, but was trying to be modest about it.

"Not one of the — are you kidding me? That was the most romantic act I've ever witnessed! A man could learn a thing or two from you, heroic and badass, yet so bloody chivalrous. You're a dying breed, Price." Ghost complimented with a huge grin, he was still wearing those damn sunglasses but Soap could see his eyes were glinted like a child on Christmas morning in the lighting of the shop. Once again, Soap found himself silently agreeing with what Ghost said, causing himself to worry if maybe he was in the wrong.

"I wouldn't suggest socking the nearest bastard you see, mate..." Price scolded jokingly.

"I would for Roach." Ghost said honestly. "I mean, would you do it again? For Soap?"

"Yes." Price answered without hesitation. "I've been in a lot of fights before, my whole youth was a damned fight club, really. Hence the need for anger management."

Soap perked up at this and sat up straighter in his chair, he still hadn't dug in too deep into Price's mysterious past, not from lack of trying. The problems was, Price didn't seem to eager to discuss it. But judging from his boyfriend's scarred knuckles, there was a lot of history in that skin, most of it violent, apparently.

"I knew you were a fight club, I just fucking knew it. Gathered that from all the scars on your knuckles, plus the obviously killer right hook." Soap said as he stared at the very marks in question, his finger running over the outlines.

"Oh man, I bet you have loads of stories, Price." Ghost sounded almost giddy, Soap was surprised he wasn't rubbing his hands together in maniacal glee, of course violence would make Ghost react in such a way, he snapped his fingers and pointed his index at Price. "That's it, I'm buying a pack of that horrible American beer Bug loves so much and we're telling scar stories at home." He said, giving Roach a firm kiss on the mouth and running to the backroom presumably to get his and Roach's coats, Roach shook his head in bemusement, and shrugged at Soap and Price before following Ghost to the back.

"I'm guessing from Ghost's lack of commentary on the subject that you haven't told them about moving in with me yet?" Price asked with a nod of his head in Ghost and Roach's direction. He was obviously trying to backtrack his way out of discussing his fight filled younger years.

And he did it with the very bomb Soap had been dreading Price to drop.

"Ahh, not exactly." Soap sighed, scratching the side of his face with a scrunched expression. "Couldn't find the proper moment for it, honestly. I'll admit, it was tempting after all of Ghost's blasted sexual comments, but still, at work didn't seem like the best place."

"I agree, just take all the time you need. But not too long, I do actually hope we live together within our lifetime." Price teased with a wink and smirk, the usual deadly combo that sent Soap's heart skyrocketing even after all this time.

"Me too. I'll tell them. Soon." Soap promised with a solid nod, Price sealed it with a kiss as he leaned over the table, his hand unwrapped from Soap's and moved to the side of Soap's neck, applying pleasant pressure to the marks left from that morning, Soap moaned quietly into the kiss and broke away. "Very bloody soon." He breathed out.

Soon. What was the deadline on 'soon'? Could it be put off for...say, forever? Couldn't he just move in with Price without actually breaking the news to his friends? Of course not, but a man could dream, right? Damn right he could, pretend that by "story time at home" Ghost meant they could go to their prospective bedrooms and ravish their boyfriends.

He had a feeling that wouldn't be the case, but he could imagine it for a few more seconds, getting lost in the demanding movements of Price's lips.

* * *

The plan for Soap to tell Ghost and Roach about him moving out was going just as well as you'd expect. Which meant there was zero progress. Soap's strategy for dealing with unknowing outcome conversations was to put them off as long as possible, not that he didn't try to bring it up a few times over the past week, the thing was, every opportunity that popped up that seemed like the ideal time for Soap to break the news ended up...falling through, to say the least.

  
Three days after their anniversary dinner, a perfect moment arose.

It was Thursday and Soap was having the typical post-work day munchies while laid up on his bed at his current home. Price was sitting criss-crossed next to him, physically, at least, mentally he was off in paperwork land and basically a zombie, albeit the sexiest zombie Soap had ever seen, but the fact remained that he was in his 'zone'. Even so, he would peek up from his reading glasses once and while (which he wore for both necessity and because he knew the glasses were a huge turn on of Soap's) to give Soap a smile, sometimes it'd be soft and sweet, other times it would be a leering look that implied all the dirty things Soap could hope for, Soap loved both, but the latter left him a frustrated squirming mess when he knew Price that wouldn't be able to act on it.

When they got together, Soap was more than aware of what he was getting into, Price warned him on several occasions that his work was important and required a great deal of his time, but he also worked on balancing it with their relationship, he didn't neglect Soap in the least. Leave him with a piqued hunger for sex for extended periods of time? Yes. But at least he always was there to...relieve the pressure before bedtime.

With a bag of crisps, Soap first peered over at the clock; 7:23 pm, Price had been grading for an hour and seven minutes, he then glanced over the offending paper Price was studying intently, Soap's eyes registered a page full of dates and significant events in history, just the sight of the jumble of words was giving him a headache.

"You almost done?" Soap asked with a full mouth, careful to not spew crumbs all over the paper.

"Hmm?" Price hummed, glancing up at Soap, pushing his glasses up his nose, Soap gave him a crooked grin. "Oh, nearly, love..." He answered, returning to the paper, a noise of disapproval left his throat as he scribbled something on the page with the pencil he borrowed from Soap.

Soap frowned and kept contact with the brim of Price's hat as he reached into the crisp's bag again getting a handful and smashing the contents into his mouth. "Alright, I'll just find other ways to entertain myself."

"Good idea, I have 10 more to go and you know how...questionable some of these kid's answers can be, especially this lad, Jacob, I heard he goes by 'Worm' though." Price said with a grunt. "Everyone in this town has a nickname of the strangest sort..."

Soap almost spat the crisps out of his mouth, his hand flew up to his mouth just in case. "Worm? What in the sodding hell?" His voice was muffled behind his palm as he swallowed.

"And Soap is a completely average name." Price muttered, not looking up from his paper.

Leaning over Soap kissed the corner of Price's jaw, "You can always call me John...John." Soap said with a sneaky smile.

Letting out a sigh, Price turned his head and kissed Soap on the lips, judging by the shaky breath he exhaled he was on the cusp of a short laugh. "You would like that, wouldn't you?" Price asked, Soap reviled in the success of finally getting Price's full attention and leaned in to kiss him deeper, Price rested his flattened palm on the side of Soap's neck.

"Mmm, I'd like you to call me whatever you want, whenever you want." Soap murmured on Price's lips.

"I'll call a rain check, I still have all this to do." Price whispered raspily and shook the small stack of papers in his other hand and pecked him on the lips chastely, once again returning to his work.

The surge of frustration Soap felt made him vaguely itchy, he could be patient, but that wasn't his greatest inner strength. He couldn't help being a little troublesome sometimes, perhaps that could be chalked up to the mohawk on his head, if he wasn't being a troublemaker, then he was alternatively a bit distracting. Both seemed to be at the forefront of his mind, so he tossed the bag of crisps to the mattress and hopped from the bed. He wiped the front of his blue shirt before pulling it over his head and throwing it to the pile of dirty clothes in the corner of the room. While scratching his bare stomach, he peeked subtly at Price, hoping to see that he caught his attention, but was met with disappointment, Price was remained involved in his grading and not the half naked Scot.

 _'Let's see if he can resist this'_ Soap thought as he stretched his arms above his head and arched his back, hearing it crack several times, he let out a low and deep groan, making sure to prolong and sexualize it, but he followed with a peeved grunt, Price remained unaware. Clearly on purpose, Soap walked around the bed and fixed his lounge pants so they rested lower on his hips, then moved so he was in Price's line of sight before balancing his weight on the balls of his feet and falling forward, catching himself with his hands. It was an impressive display of his physical strength, one that got him pushed down into the carpet and fucked into it before, the rug burn he had the next day on his knees was beyond worth it.

This time he didn't even look up at Price as he began doing a series of push ups, first, it was slow motions, bending his elbows and lowering himself just enough so that his chest barely grazed the dark carpeted floor, the muscles in his biceps strained at the controlled pace but he kept it going, adding a deliberate roll of his hips towards the floor when he could feel that Price's eyes were on him finally. The move was something he picked up in gymnastics when he was a teenager, not that it was on the curriculum, but it certainly drove his past boyfriends and girlfriends crazy. The list of hookups was relatively short, especially compared to someone like Simon Riley, but no one was ever left unsatisfied, and Soap was certainly planning on getting his fill of Price, insatiable as he was. He knew it set Price right off, responsibilities be damned. Soap certainly was the bad influence now. He couldn't resist lifting his head and instead, peeked up from under his lashes, he could see that Price's gaze was glued on him now and that his hand was gripped tight around the pencil, the hold looked strong enough to snap the wood in half. Soap felt an uprising of smugness, he had the tendency to get a little cocky when it came to firing up Price, so he lifted his left arm and placed it behind his back and, with greater effort, bent his elbow on the only arm keeping him up and went up and down a considerable amount of times. In the struggle, Soap earned himself a fine sheet of sweat over his forehead and torso, but he continued rising up and down, winking at Price when a look of sexual-repressed exasperation crossed on the older man's features.

"What are you looking at, darling? Don't you have work to do?" Soap asked nonchalantly, like this whole workout wasn't taking all of his strength to do.

Price all but growled in response and flicked his eyes back down to his paperwork, only to snap them up in the next push up Soap did. Ah, he definitely got to him now. Soap, with greater effort than it ever took before, which he blamed on Price's cooking, quickly pushed himself up with his left arm and switched so that his right hand planted down to catch his weight, the floor vibrated with the transition. Soap considered this whole performance as delayed payback for how turned on Price made him when he fixed the shop's door months ago, all sweaty and clad in the tightest shirt known to man, or this man at least.

"It's pretty hot in here, eh? Think I'll need to take off these pants next..." Soap tried to sound as serious as possible, but biting back the smirk was failing...miserably. Price had his mouth slack just the smallest amount, Soap could see that his teeth were clenched and his eyes were half-slited, he swallowed hard at the look. Right about now, the thought of Price rubbing his beard across his entire body sounded damn fantastic to the point where he nearly lost his concentration and collapsed onto the ground, but he had soldier's focus, despite never having been one, and kept going. How could he break now that Price had seemingly pushed his work to the side in favor of, in his own Price-y way, openly gawking at him.

"Would you look at that...I'm getting all sweaty," Soap said through a struggled grunt. "Guess I'll be needing a shower now, maybe you'd care to join me? I never get any cleaner than when I'm with you..." He lowered his voice to a husky seducing tone, his brogue deeper and panted through his exertion.

There was no time to register Price throwing his notebook to the side, landing right beside his discarded bag of crisps, his reading glasses were removed and placed on the side table. Soap paused his movements.

"Need me to be your drill sergeant?" Price questioned in a smokey voice, he was the one smirking now as he rose from the bed and made his way over to Soap.

Caught off guard, Soap fell to the carpet with an "Oof!" at the sight of Price pulling his shirt above his head and dropping it to the floor, his hat fell with it, he must have been aroused if he didn't even care that it fell carelessly to the floor. Half of Price's lean and toned body all out for Soap to see, it was a little incredible (and not to mention, unfair) how ripped Price was for simply being a professor.

"Well?" Price asked, crouching down next to Soap.

"Aye, Captain..." Soap answered breathlessly with a nod, his eyes skimmed over Price's body.

Price hummed, his hand came underneath Soap's collapsed body and settled on his hip, with little to no trouble, Price lifted Soap's entire lower half up and bowed his head down so that his lips were right by Soap's ear. "In that case, we need to work on your form, your body needs to be straight and parallel, not flat on the ground, that position comes later..." Price whispered.

Apparently Soap was thoroughly distracted enough that he didn't notice the loud groan he let out from Price's words, his damned enticing words and touch. However, Price did hear it and pulled back, giving Soap another smirk before moving so he was out of Soap's vision and brought his free hand to the other side of Soap's hips, gripping and fixing the positioning to the 'proper form', but his hands never left Soap's body. "How many can you do one handed when I'm next to you like this?" Price challenged.

"Let's find out, eh?" Soap certainly did not have to press the words out through a moan, well, maybe a little.

It seemed easy enough, he was an expert at the one handed push up after all, he crushed both Ghost's and Roach's best records put together, but somehow Price's hands all over his bare torso, also half naked himself, made it a much more difficult task. Price dug his fingers harder into Soap's hips, the other man's skin heated in response. Fuck. How was it that Price was always the best at getting his revenge? Soap should've learned his lesson by now, but he liked being punished like this, pushed.

"I'm waiting, Soap..." Price tutted.

"Bloody fucking hell." Soap grumbled under his breath. With his left hand being the only one on the ground again, Soap controlled himself and lowered his body till his stomach nearly made contact with the plush carpet and pushed up. He was on a roll, ten push ups in and he felt unstoppable, sexy bloody professors or not, that was until Price's hands moved from his hips and skimmed across his abs, before sweeping around and feeling on his ass, Soap let out a groan and faltered mid-push up. "Price, that's no fair."

"Keep going, come on, come on." Price scolded with a firm squeeze. Soap could tell there was a chuckle begging to escape Price's throat, oh he was enjoying this. Of course he was.

"You're not exactly helping here, Pri." Soap said with a strained upward movement.

"Oh I'm not, hm?" Price slid his hands up Soap's body until they reached his shoulders, then he removed them completely, Soap was about to complain, but Price moved suddenly so his body was over his own. Soap could feel his heated breath on the back of his neck. "That's perfectly fine, I lead better by example anyways."

Soap froze when Price did his own hip roll, pushing himself into Soap's ass, he was hard and made damn sure Soap could feel it, Soap lifted himself up more, pressing back on the older man, but Price raised up, removing the contact between their bodies. Soap wanted to writhe back, fuck, even whine, but he knew that was exactly what Price was hoping for. Instead, he placed both of his hands solidly on the floor and resumed his push ups like everything was normal, Price moved with him, and it went fine for a while, but Price increased his rutting against Soap and his tongue and teeth found their way to the back of Soap's neck and all the way to the side, leading up to his jawline.

That was when Soap lost his well maintained control and dropped to the floor and flipped in one move, pulling Price down on him in the next, placing his hand on the back of Price's neck and connecting their mouths, open and messy, tongues slipping together. Price wrapped his arms around Soap and ground down into him again, leaving them both groaning into the other's open mouth. Soap's free hand felt around Price's biceps, trailing up his arm and to his back, his fingers dug into the ridges of muscles there. Before, Soap had mentioned something about it being so hot that he needed to remove his pants, well now Price was certainly taking his time getting them off, both of them too distracted in the kiss to concern themselves with trivial things like pulling down pants.  
Price broke away from the kiss, not before licking at Soap's full bottom lip and taking it between his teeth, nibbling at it and releasing. A hand came up and lay flat on Soap's neck, his heart beat thudded under Price's heated palm.

"You know, I never did finish grading, once again my lunch will be consumed with work, endless bloody work. I blame you for that..." Price didn't sound like he minded one damn bit, especially when he leaned down to kiss and bite at Soap's chest.

"Yeah, yeah, just fuck me already, worry about that bollocks later..." Soap groaned out. It was enough for Price to chuckle deeply, but not stop his fervent attention on Soap's body as he licked his way back up to the other man's mouth.

"Before you, there's no way I'd have dropped that so called 'bollocks'..but you, I think I'd drop anything for you, everything." Price murmured, his soft tone caught Soap off guard, it confused his wracked with perpetual arousal body and mind and made his heart start a whole new string of thumps, his hand came up and stroked across Price's beard.

"Huh, guess I am pretty special, eh?"

"Mhm..." Price nuzzled into Soap's hand and kissed him fully again, closed mouth this time, just soft presses of their lips, the opposite of their writhing and quite aggressively moving hips, slamming into each other at this point, both of them dying for the friction, needing it.

"Special enough to get fucked into the floor?" Soap asked as he pulled away with an edge of that built up arousal bubbling to the surface, his hips snapped up rougher this time, indicative of how they like to fuck.

"I think that can be arranged..." Price answered in his gravelly voice, the scratch of the sound hit Soap right below, he squirmed a bit impatiently under Price.

Pants removal finally became worth the attention, Price slipped his fingers under the spandex band of Soap's lounge pants and he began to tug them down, but — the moment was interrupted when a loud yell was heard from somewhere outside of Soap's bedroom, the pair's heads snapped over to the direction of the door and the source of the shout.

 _Ghost_.

The two of them let out an irritated sigh, with the shout, almost every trace of arousal went out the window. Letting out a grunt, Price placed one last kiss on Soap's mouth before, reluctantly, lifting to his feet and reaching a hand out for Soap to take. Soap was the more stubborn of the two, he remained laid up on the floor, still a panting mess from their heated make out with a side of grinding, his arms crossed over his chest.

Price nodded at his hand and shook it. "Soap, don't you think we should see what Ghost is on about out there?"

Of course that was the last thing he wanted to do, he continued to glare at the door, Price was now standing above him instead of pinning him down into the ground and he was so damn close to being out of his lounge pants before the interruption.

"Do we have to? I mean, maybe Ghost and Roach are just being obnoxiously loud toni—" Soap started to protest.

"If Soap thinks there'll be no repercussions for this, he is massively mistaken!" Ghost's yell carried more clearly this time.

There was no way to get out of it now.

Soap breathed out slowly. "Never mind." He said. Inwardly, Soap cursed at the stiffness in his pants, he reached up to clasp his hand on Price's, doing most of the lifting himself, but letting Price do enough work so that his biceps bulged that much more.

On the way to the door, Price grabbed up both of their shirts and handed Soap's over to him as he pulled his own over his head again, concealing his fit body which drove Soap from previously being put out and turned on to presently wallowing in a wash of regret, he slipped his own shirt on again and could see a similar look on Price's face. Soap didn't attempt to open the door of his room before Price could, he was far too engrossed in thoughts of a solid floor and more than solid man on top of him.

The hallway was empty, but the door to Ghost and Roach's bedroom was wide open at the far end of it, separated by the joined bathroom between both of their rooms.

Soap pinched the bridge of his nose, "Prepare yourself for anything, Pri, this could either be a monumental disaster or...a slightly less catastrophic. Either way, it's gonna be a fully over-dramatized Simon Riley moment." Soap warned Price with a hand on his boyfriend's chest, it was pointless, really, since Price had come to learn all about Ghost's...wonderfully charming and rational handling of any situation.

At the entrance to their friend's room, Hellraiser came bursting down the hallway, stopping just at the space between Soap and Price and peering up at Soap, his bright silver eyes shined with an edge of mischievousness, yet his expression looked suspiciously innocent, for a cat anyways. He lifted a paw and began to lick it, swiping it behind his fluffy dark grey ear.

"And there's the bloody menace himself!" Ghost said, coming into view from inside his and Roach's bedroom. His expression was glowering, face unmasked, his blue eyes blazing.

"I swear if this about that last piece of bloody pie I ate...it was late and you know how I sleep-eat." Soap defended with a shrug.

"No, not that, you git. It's that cat of yours!" Ghost thrust out his pointer finger downwards right at Hellraiser, but he faltered at Soap's words. "Wait, you ate the rest of Bug's pie?" He asked with squinted eyes. "I should've known!" His hands flew up in the air.

"Besides the point, Ghost, now tell me, what did Hellraiser supposedly do?" Soap grunted, he was already getting a headache.

"It's not _supposed_ , it's what he did do...come look at this fucking travesty, little bastard hadn't planned on me finding out, but oi, did I." Ghost did a gesture with his hand, signaling them both to follow.

"Simon, it's not that big of a deal." Roach said, walking up next to Ghost and rolling his eyes, it looked as if he'd been hearing about whatever the issue was for a while. Poor guy.

Ghost looked over to Roach in disbelief, "Bug. Are you...how can you say such — you know what? That's fine, don't have any empathy for your boyfriend." Ghost walked out of the room with his head held high, as Soap and Price both glanced to each other and sighed, following after Ghost.

Roach was left in the bedroom, a hand dragged down the side of his face, Hellraiser walked into the room and laid on the floor next to him, not a trace of guilt on his feline features.

Leading them to the living room, Ghost came to a halt next to the couch and turned back to his friends."Alright, you know how these past few weeks my skull balaclavas have been going all missing and shite? Well, I know exactly where they are now. Just a couple minutes ago, I caught the cat devil running out of my room with a mask in his mouth, so I followed him...look at this load of bollocks!" Ghost moved out of the way so Soap and Price could see the small pile of masks, neatly arranged into quite a warm and comfy improvised bed, hidden behind the space of the couch and the wall,white cat fur could be seen scattered all over the fabric. "Ok then, MacTavish, what do you have to say about what your feline spawn of satan did, hm?" Ghost snarked, his hands propped on his hips.

Ok, so this wasn't exactly an unreasonable thing to be upset about, Soap knew damn well how much the masks meant to Ghost. Not that he was given every detail of his friend's childhood, to sum it up, his family was awful, his father and brother in particular. Soap wasn't sure he'd ever want to hear every story anyways, the ones he was told were bad enough, but Roach must help Ghost with his patience and understanding, Ghost was a much happier man since meeting Gary Sanderson. Years ago, when Ghost was plastered one night, he told Soap why he wore the masks; his older brother was a considerable bastard, taunted Ghost every night with a similar skull mask to frighten him, make him lose sleep, that along with his father's persistent abuse made his childhood hell, so he wore the mask in the present to prove to himself that he wasn't a scared little kid anymore, that he made it through.

"You don't think this has anything to do with you using Hellraiser's cat bed as a personal barf bucket last month?" Price pointed out, scratching the side of his face, his nose wrinkled up as if he could still smell the unpleasant odor.

Ghost appeared to be taken aback from the accusation, apparently he hadn't even considered it, or he just completely forgot until Price brought it up. "I — If anything, that whole thing was Gaz's fault! He was daring me to down that line of shots, alright, and I never turn down a dare, except for that time Roach told me to strip off my clothes to my bare arse and run down the side of the street."

A cringe mirrored on both Soap and Price's faces.

"Simon...first off, no one dared you to do that, second, you actually did it. Really enthusiastically, by the way." Roach informed his boyfriend, his mouth pressed into a thin line as he made his way over to the three of them, Hellraiser pattered quietly behind him, not looking guilty in the least.

"Oh, I did it then? Bloody hell I need to cut back on my drinking." Ghost groaned, his hand covered his eyes, splitting a few fingers apart, he looked at Roach. "How uh — how'd you feel about that? I can't quite remember, Lovebug."

"I wasn't upset, if that's what you're asking. Pretty sure I slapped your ass and cheered you on the whole time." Roach admitted with a bit of difficulty, a faint blush crept on his cheeks.

"Don't forget you were yelling after him, 'That's right, that dick is mine!'." Price added while shifting on his feet, he looked amused at the shocked expression on Roach's face.

"Ugh, you just had to mention that part, didn't you? Now I'll have to re-bleach my eyes and ears." Soap shuddered visibly, throwing his head back and praying to whoever was listening that he could forget that entire evening, excluding the part where Price went down on him in the bathroom after shot number 8. Price mouthed the words, "I'm sorry" over at him, he clearly hadn't wished to have the images in his memory banks either.

"Oh god, I didn't remember that part...fuck." Roach mumbled with a severely reddened face now, rubbing the back of his neck. Ghost, on the other hand, was practically beaming over to his boyfriend, he even walked over to him and put an arm around his shoulder.

"I love when you get all possessive on me, Bug, it's pretty sexy." Ghost whispered to Roach, wriggling his brows and pressing a kiss to his cheek, Roach smirked in response. Ghost was fixed on his boyfriend for a few moments before he shook his head aggressively and snapped his head back at Soap and Price. "For fuck's sake, Soap, you say Price is the one always changing the subject, but the two of you are like a goddamn tag team of distraction. Tell me, what am I supposed to do with that pile of my beloved masks?" Ghost asked with a frown, as if he were mourning the ramshackled balaclavas, his eyes cast downwards, Roach comforted him, running his hand up and down Ghost's back.

"...M'msorry mate, you could always wash 'em." Soap said, squatting down and picking up a mask, only to see it was thoroughly covered in white and grey cat hair.

"Are you kidding me? They're fucked, MacTavish, fucked! There's enough fur on there for Roach's grandmum to knit a sodding sweater!" Ghost shot back, glaring at Hellraiser when he kneaded on the masks and curled up on them in a ball.

"You did ruin his second favorite sleeping spot, Simon." Roach said carefully with a nudge into Ghost's side. Roach still felt guilty about the whole thing, even if it wasn't technically _his_ fault. Or maybe it was, he certainly didn't discourage the barrage of shot glasses being lined in front of his boyfriend that night.

"But, but, Bug, my masks..." Ghost whined, picking up one that Hellrasier wasn't planted on and shaking it a bit, pieces of hair drifted off of it and danced in the air.

Bracing his hands on his thighs, Soap sighed and rose to his feet, "Look, I'll pay for the masks, mate. You can buy yourself an unnecessary amount and it will all be forgiven and forgotten, alright?" Soap offered.

Clearly that was a poor choice of words, Ghost looked offended all over again. "Unnecessary? Please, Price has well over 40 hats! Not that he's wearing any at the moment, nice hair mate." Ghost didn't try to hide the laughter from coming out.

Price's hands shot up to fix the hat on his head, but there was nothing there but his disarrayed hair, he frowned deeply. "I'm too old for this..." Price breathed out, effectively leaving the living room and heading to the kitchen.

"Ghost, I'll reimburse you for the sodding balaclavas and it'll all be like it never happened." Soap repeated, bending down to pet the now sleeping cat who purred in contentment.

Ghost remained silent for a minute, his lips pursed and his eyes glanced thoughtfully around the room. That is, until Roach cleared his throat and gave a pointed look to his boyfriend, his brows rose expectantly.

"Fine, fine. But your cat is a nightmare." Ghost said, Soap was surprised he wasn't sticking his tongue out at the napping cat.

"You were saying how adorable he was last night, Simon, he was sleeping in your lap..." Roach stated blankly.

"That was before this shite!"

"He's a cat, Simon..."

"Exactly! He knew damn well what he was doing, look how proud he is all sittin' there!"

"Fuck it, this is going on twitter." Soap said with a smirk, taking out his phone from his pocket and snapping a picture, posting it to Hellraiser's twitter with the caption: _'Revenge on Uncle Ghost — SUCCESS'._

It was Soap's turn to laugh at Ghost's expense, all the way back to the kitchen, ignoring the curses that left his friend's mouth.

Entering the kitchen, Soap slipped his phone back in his pocket and smiled at Price who was leaned on the counter, hat back on his head, the brim of it tilted more downward than usual, a glass of whiskey in his hand. Soap walked over to him and leaned up and kissed Price on the lips, lingering a bit and pulling back, his tongue darted across to taste the traces of whiskey before taking the glass in his hand and sipping a small amount, controlling the grimace from falling on his face.

Price wrapped his arm around Soap's waist. "Love, if you were waiting for the perfect opportunity to tell them about moving, that was it." Price said, half teasing, half serious, a smirk directed at Soap.

Soap remained looking forward, his head nodded slowly. "Aye, no better time than that..." He lifted the glass to his lips and swallowed down another mouthful of the alcohol.

"There's no rush." Price reminded him with an easy shrug.

"How long are you gonna say that before it becomes untrue?" Soap asked, glancing to Price with slitted eyes.

"I can be persuaded to say it a little longer..." Price started, taking the glass from Soap's hands and downing the remainder of whiskey, setting the empty cup on the counter and leaning in close to Soap, his breath fanned on Soap's face.

"I'm a creative man, so I have a few ideas, what do you say we go finish our work out?" Soap murmured, licking his lips and leading Price to his bedroom. It was safe to say that it was the last time the issue was brought up for the rest of the night.

* * *

The next missed chance was completely Soap's fault...ok, not entirely. It was the following Saturday night and Soap and Price had the house to themselves. Or they were supposed to, Ghost and Roach went out with the promise that they wouldn't be home "until way past you old wanker's bedtime, so don't worry." Directly quoted from Ghost's mouth muffled by his mask, and Soap, for whatever fucking reason, took the words seriously and figured they were true. The couch at Soap, Ghost, and Roach's place (the one he swore he'd never touch again, that didn't last long) wasn't nearly as comfortable as the one at Price's and technically, his, place, but that didn't stop them from collapsing on it after dinner. Soap had intended to recreate the night of their anniversary, flipped positions this time, and it went well, for a while.

"Do you think Roach will miss these oven mitts?" Soap asked, rubbing the back of his neck and belly simultaneously while he stared down at the charred fabric on the counter, previously light blue lined with black, now crispy and no trace of blue to be found on one side.

Price mingled a sigh with a chuckle. "Maybe, maybe not."

"That's not very helpful, darling..."

"I can't believe you threw it on the burner..."

Rolling his shoulders, Soap picked up the lost cause of an mitt between his thumb and forefinger and walked it to the trashcan, he lifted a few pieces of garbage out of the way and dropped the mitten inside, then covered it back up with the trash. effectively hiding it. Stepping back, he examined the trash seeing if there was any way that it'd be visible before giving a short grunt and headed to the sink to wash his hands, Price had that ever-present smirk on his face, making it pretty difficult for Soap to feel anything other than a rising surprised cough of arousal in his throat and another type of rising, only lower.

"That wasn't my fault. How was I expected to just stand there and keep off you while you showed off flipping those knives in the air like a goddamn Iron Chef?" Soap defended with an accusing hard stare at Price, but there was a smile on his face. "Those hands of yours are bloody talented." He added under his breath, turning the knob on the sink.

Right in the middle of sudsing up his hands, Price slipped his arms around Soap, pulling him in close from behind, his hands stroked up and down Soap's stomach, and his head rested on the younger man's shoulder.

"These hands?" Price clarified, no doubt satisfied that he made Soap completely freeze his hand washing and stiffen before melting into the embrace.

"Aye, those would be the hands..." Soap answered roughly. What was it about home cooked dinners that made Soap so comforted, lazy. and extremely turned on all at once? He could chalk that up to Price and his attentive hands. Price was a supreme tease and started pressing a line of kisses down the back of Soap's neck, he wasn't playing fair at all. As usual.

"And talented, hm?" Price asked between a kiss, this time right under Soap's ear.

"Mhm, how you know your way around a knife is impressive, I mean it, I — uh never seen a man with skills like yours." Soap said, somewhat husky and partly bashful, his hands moved to Price's forearms to bring him in tighter, then rested his hands on top of the older man's, twining their fingers together.

Price was having none of that one-sided compliment business, he made sure Soap knew how much he meant, every day through all of Soap's modest brushing off of the sweet words. "I think you're the one with the talented hands, love. With your art and all."

"Nah, that's just for fun, I'm nothing compared to real artists." Clearly Soap hadn't exactly gotten better with accepting compliments. How was it that Price had done so well on working through his bad traits, yet many of his remained unimproved? He'd have to work on that later. Later? That's exactly one of Soap's biggest problems. Somehow, even if they weren't facing each other, Soap could sense that Price had rolled his eyes.

"Bloody hell, I'm not even going to acknowledge that full of bollocks statement. What even defines a 'real artist', you're an amazing artist, Soap..." Price paused to kiss the side of Soap's face before resting his own face there, their facial hair scraped together in pleasant itch. "You know, Mac was telling me about this art show that's coming up in a few weeks..." Price's words trailed off like his thumb did across Soap's stomach, bringing their hands with him.

"Art show, eh?" Soap considered the implication for a minute, his fingers drumming on his stomach. "You sure I'm good enough for that shite?"

Price made a humming noise in the back of his throat. "Remember when we went out to dinner about two months back and you doodled the cityscape on that napkin, then the waitress bought it off you for 30 pounds? A bloody napkin sketch you did in the time between getting the menus and ordering. If that doesn't tell you something, I don't know what could, love." Price said with a click of his tongue.

Soap turned in Price's arms, quite done with not being able to see his face and settled his forearms on the older man's shoulders, Price's hands shifted back to his waist, easing a little lower than before. "Come on, Price, that was one waitress — hardly proves I'm worthy of being featured publicly."

"It was only one waitress because you've never shown anyone else your art before, remember?"

"So you think I should enter an art show? For artists?" Soap asked slowly in questioning disbelief.

"I don't know what else would be at an art show but artists...and art."

Soap gave him a sarcastic smile, "I know that, what I mean is, I just scribble sketch." Soap said with a self-deprecating shrug.

After all these months Price had noticed that Soap was excessively private with his art, Soap was a bit discontented when Price told him about displaying one of his drawings on his desk at the college. He didn't press the issue about the obvious self-conscious vibes Soap sent when he was complimented on his sketches, but it felt as good of a time as any to ask. "Why haven't you shown anyone else your work? Before me?" Price prompted softly.

"Ah, it's stupid..." Soap mumbled, picking at the collar of Price's shirt and avoiding his gaze.

"Nothing you say is stupid." Price enunciated the assurance with a gentle, encouraging smile and a brush of his fingers under Soap's eyes, leading down to the full pout on his lips.

Soap sighed and was quiet for a while, he hoped that this question wouldn't come up, well ever, but of course it would eventually. "When I said you were the first person who's seen my sketches before, that wasn't completely true."

"I figured I couldn't have been the only one."

"Of course, you know everything." Soap said, playfulness coloring his tone. "Growing up, drawing was my thing. Remember when I told you about going on the roof when I was a kid?" He asked, Price gave him a small nod. "That's where it all started, up there on lonely nights..I'd make up these sort of comic-like sketches. It's funny you bring up an art show, to be honest my other dream for a while, besides the military, was to be an artist."

"What stopped you?"

"Myself? Self doubts and all that? Nah, I'd be lying if I said it was 100% that..."

Price stared on, waiting for him to continue, his focus remained on Soap, his eyes didn't flicker off to the side to the covered plate of brownies Roach made last night, he was that good at keeping his attention, even Soap faltered to give them a backwards look every so often, the chocolate desert was certainly more tempting than bringing up old wounds, but Price asked, and Soap wanted him to know every part and piece of time from his life.

"I was with this girl in high school, Alana, ah — she was the one I broke it off with before I moved to Hereford. We ended it because we had different goals in life, she wanted that 'ideal life', ya know, boring mundane careers, kids, basically that white picket fence rubbish and I was some punk with a mohawk and my head in the clouds that thinks that life is a bloody nightmare...not an A+ match." Soap scoffed, that was a bit of an understatement. "Anyways, at the point where we were together a while, I was at the peak of wanting to pursue my artist dreams, but she thought it was a silly 'hobby', that drawing was a petty way to make a living, not a notable job, a waste of time, basically. And she wasn't quiet about letting me know it every time I would sit around sketching..." The corner of Soap's mouth turned down in a frown and his eyes skimmed all over Price's face. "I wasn't lying when I said you were the first person _I let_ see my drawings, Price, because she took it upon herself to take my journal from me and look through it herself...told me they were good, but not enough to sell for shite. Got drunk that same night and gave me sodding ultimatum, a life with her, the one she wanted, or the life that I wanted...and I hate fucking ultimatums, ..I choose me. Needless to say, that was the downfall of our relationship."

Price's brows rose in surprise. "To put it bluntly, she sounds like she was a dreadful girl."

Soap couldn't help but throw his head back and let out a throaty laugh. "Then I'm making her sound worse than she was...she wasn't a bad person, really, she just had her dreams and I had mine. We were different. And we went our separate ways."

"But what she said still bothers you, doesn't it? That's why you've never shown your art, why you gave up on making it your profession..." Price observed, he appeared very bothered it, his arms held onto Soap all the more tighter.

"Honestly, it does..." Soap confessed, not without struggle as he shifted in Price's arms. "She made me feel mediocre enough to question if going for it was the right thing to do. I put down my old journal for a while, didn't pick back up on drawing until I moved to Hereford and saw that small black journal in a shop, it was like a sign that I shouldn't give up, but I still heard the self-doubt prickling in the back of my head." Soap paused for a moment and the corners of his mouth turned up in a soft smile as he gazed on at Price. "It's a lot quieter these days though, thanks to you."

"That's bollocks, no one should discourage your dreams. I think you're amazing, every piece of your work I've seen is beautiful and detailed. Then again, I might be a little biased." Price's voice was warm like honey, his smile was even more of a comfort. There he was being his inspiration all over again, telling him exactly what he needed to hear when he needed to hear it.

"Thank you, it means a lot to hear someone else say it...bloody hell it means so much to me. I never thought I'd show anyone my stuff, but then there's you." Soap was far from trying to disguise his affection, it's not like it was possible to with how it was practically bursting out of his chest and clogging up his throat.

Price leaned in and kissed the side of his face, then the other side, and settled on his lips for a little while before pulling away. "So I take it you'll consider the art show?"

"You know what? I think I will." Soap decided with a solid nod, maybe it was the kiss that provoked his bravery or Price's words, but either way, he was going through with it, showing the world — or Hereford, his...talents? Eh, Soap wasn't sure if he could go that far. "Huh. Going from showing only you, to a huge chunk of this town and who knows else. Never thought I'd say that." He added with a nervous laugh and a smile to match it, rubbing the back of his neck with a hand.

"Can't wait to see what you come up with, but whatever it is, it'll be amazing, I know it."

OK, now Price was buttering him up extra good and hard now, his hands were playing a dangerous game on Soap's lower back, drifting down slowly with each passing second making the conversation come to full circle right back to where it began...those fucking hands. Soap moved his own, squeezing firmly on Price's shoulder and up to the side of his neck. The marks on both of them from last week were long faded and Soap was so very badly tempted to put it there all over again, his fingers circled around the very spot as he bit on his bottom lip, Price noticed it all and brought Soap closer, a deep chuckle in his throat.

"I'll think of something...after the move, you are my biggest muse nowadays, darling. I think you inspired about five new drawings in the past few minutes, ah — three of those were in the last minute. Can't say any of them are particularly innocent..." Soap murmured lowly, directing his gaze in a sweeping motion over Price's form, and at last came back up to his face, he took note of the wicked smile that was etched on Price's features. Why did it look like Price was sizing him up in a hungry way? Probably because he was, and thinking of desert in the form of Soap drizzled in chocolate. But Soap honestly wasn't sure if that was his own thought or one conveyed through his boyfriend's eyes. Either way, he liked where this was heading.

"Hmm, I'm not sure if they allow erotic art or not at those shows..." Price said, quirking up one half of his mouth, many naughty implications were wrapped up in that look.

"Who says anything about my thoughts being 'erotic', I was talking about full blown pornographic images here, old man." Soap dropped the newly acquired nick name and that was enough for Price's mouth to fall into a straight line. Oh, Soap was gonna pay for that.

Not that it was a bad thing to pay the price for.

It wasn't like they ever kissed softly, well there were the times in the early morning when the damned birds outside of the window wouldn't shut the fuck up and made him feel like he was in a Disney fairy tale, the times when Price would keep his arms around him and somehow manage to roll him over, because he was dead weight in the morning, and cuddle him tight, leaving whispers of kisses all over his face, Soap had never had that much adoration in the morning, but he felt it for Price. He'd let Price kiss some unsolvable maze around his face, every line, freckle, and sun spot until he made it back to his lips and hold them together like that, in the morning of all times.

Those were occasions when kissing softly was nice, preferable, but right now, right now all Soap wanted and all Soap got was a hard clash of lips in the middle of the kitchen. Messy is what got the job done, his arms wrapped completely around Price's neck and kept the fast pace of their mouths going. It was hard to breathe at this point, and they both ended up sucking quick breaths through whatever passage they could, not sure if they were getting oxygen or each other's exhales. Soap knew how to set off Price, how to make this go from a little irresponsible and sloppy to downright rough and destructive, all it took was a groan drawn out from the back of his throat as Price's hands ceased their teasing touches and grasped firmly at his ass, planting Soap between the counter and a Price, much better than between a rock and a hard place, though that very same situation was happening in his pants, ones he needed to get out of very soon.

Price tore away from Soap's mouth, thankfully, as much as it was unfortunate, now he could get some air. Price grazed his teeth along Soap's jaw, giving a less than gentle nip on his neck, Soap was wondering how he could multitask breathing, biting, and groping all in one movement, Soap was having enough trouble keeping his balance and his eyes open so he could watch the way Price worked him, though he didn't have the best view, the hat on top of the older man's head served as another obstacle, obscuring his view of Price's hot mouth on his neck, not marking this time, just light bites this point, and his tongue was the brunt of the assault. For a moment, Soap considered tearing the hat (and the shirt) off of Price, but after the unfortunate accident with Roach's oven mitt and a oven top burner that was still hot, he resisted. They just needed to get the fuck out of this kitchen.

"Could an old man do all this to you?"

"Ah — not just any old man, but you could..." The noise that left Soap's mouth was a mix of a moan, a gasp, and laugh, whatever it was, it made Price growl in his chest. Clearly that wasn't the exact answer Price was aiming to here, but Soap was only doing what the two of them do best, play off each other, find that balance of power play, see who came out on top, in every way, not just the obvious.

It was that answer that got him shoved down into the couch and got his shirt strewn across the room, just barely missing Hellraiser's liter box.

"You're the one who's going to be feeling like an old man after I'm done with you." And just like all of Price's promises, it was cemented with a kiss. Soap's not sure if he says 'Fuck yes' out loud or if it's all in his head, but at this point, it doesn't matter, not when he's working his fingers to the best of their abilities in unbuttoning Price's pants, in aid to hurry up the process. He's ready to feel Price sink into his skin, bones, and wear him out to the point where serving coffee tomorrow will undoubtedly be a trying task.

For the second time in a week, it's a yell that rips their mouths apart, nearly identical to the one they heard just a few days ago. Their heads snap over to the entrance of the living room, Ghost is standing there with his mouth gaped open like a half-masked fish and Roach is next to him, pale as a sheet. It's not like they'd never seen them make out before and Soap didn't get what the big deal was until he remembered that both of their pants were off now, and Soap had dragged a fair share of Price's boxer-briefs down his ass, where his hands were still in place in a unrelenting hold. Ghost took the liberty of covering Roach's eyes and his own as he backed out of the living room until they were out of sight, leaving him and Price to jump up and hurriedly dress. Ah, nothing like getting rock hard and having it plummet down like you were dipped in ice water.

"What the sodding hell happened to you two not being back until after our 'bedtime', you arse?!" Soap shouted as he frantically searched around and lifted couch cushions looking for his pants, Price tapped his forearm and handed them over, somehow he was already dressed, and standing stiffly, when Soap dropped his eyes, he knew exactly why. He gave his boyfriend a grimaced smile and looked on at him helplessly, Price sighed and shrugged in one motion, all but power walking to Soap's bedroom. Apparently this hadn't killed his mood at all, living up to Price's sex drive being the 9th world wonder.

"Don't even try to make this out like it's my fault, MacTavish!" Ghost yelled back with a hard jab of his finger as he returned to the living room, mask-less, and giving Soap a quick glance over to see if he was decent before letting out a relived sigh and waving his hands about in the air. "I thought we agreed, no more sex on the couch."

"Please, like you and Roach aren't on it every night I'm not here! Plus, who bought it? That's right, I did, you numpty. And you weren't even supposed to be home!"

"Well it turned out that drinking several pints of beers doesn't make bloody awful local bands sound any better, so we came home."

"You couldn't, I don't know, call or text me to let me know first?"

"Like you could find your pants to even pick up your phone...and I shouldn't have to, it's _my_ house!" Ghost shot back.

Soap knew right then was both the most idea, and yet, the worst moment to drop the moving out bomb, he knew it wasn't for the best to do it there when the tension was high and more stupid, regretful things could be said. "You're right, it is..." Soap pushed past him and retreated to his bedroom, closing the door and leaning back against it. Price sat on the edge of the bed, once again shirtless and pant-less, not looking any less turned on. It was just what he needed right now. The lock was clicked and he made his way over to Price, settling right on his lap, a knee on either side of the older man, his forehead pressed into Price's.

"There I go blowing another perfect opportunity..."

"It wasn't perfect...s'not the best to tell them in the middle of an argument." Price said, rubbing soothing circles on Soap's back and kissing at his nose.

Soap nodded lightly, Price's lips brushed on his nose, "Mmm, I know..." He said with a sigh.

A brimming, filthy grin overtook Price's mouth. "Although, I can think of other things to blow, love..."

Proper gentleman. Yeah right.

"Price. Goddammit."

The bed squeaked loud enough that night for Soap to be 10000% sure that Price's mattress was far more superior. His own bed now too...where he wished they were instead.

* * *

Things still hadn't been resolved between Soap and Ghost, they spent their time avoiding each other and not speaking outside of work related topics. The two of them fought like brothers all the time, driving the other crazy and pissing each other off...it's how it's always been. They'd make up eventually, but until then, Roach and Price were caught in the middle and perfectly fine with all parties involved and putting up with their boyfriend's petty and silly fights, which seemed to be increasing as of late.

"God, what the hell is that sodding thing?" Soap regretfully asked the empty bathroom, poking at a balled up black...something or another on the edge bathroom counter, it made an unpleasant squelching sound when his finger prodded it, he gagged openly and felt completely tainted. While coughing back the nausea, Soap washed his hands once, twice, and maybe a third time, scrubbing his finger so hard it burned. Better safe than sorry, right? Especially when it came to **USC;** unidentified smelly clothing. If that's what it even was.

Roach squeezed into the small bathroom that the three of them had to share and eyed the oddity on the counter as he reached across Soap to get his deodorant. "Hey, Soap. What's up?" Roach greeted friendly as ever, not a hint of falseness in his smile. Receiving no answer, Roach leaned over the counter and got a good look at the Scot's face and arched an eyebrow. "Um, nice face you're pulling there, man." He said with a laugh, straightening back up and shaking his head, amused.

With a hand towel, Soap dried his hands and turned to face Roach. "Mate, do you know what that foul thing is?" Soap nodded in the direction of it, tossing the hand towel into the basket by the tub and crossing his arms over his chest, Price was at conference with all the stuffed shirts, so since Price was unable to dress how he felt comfortable, Soap decided to do it for him and wore one of his boyfriend's favorite green shirts, finding it a little too relaxing. He'd more than likely end up stealing it, as ridiculous as that was considering the fact that they always shared shirts nowadays, even if Price's were a tad too tight on him.

"Simon just got back from his run." Roach said simply with a shrug, reaching under his shirt and applying the deodorant.

This news didn't exactly please Soap. "So he leaves his bloody disgusting...god please tell me that's just a shirt, on the counter?" He asked blankly.

"Hasn't he always done that? It's just now bothering you, dude?" Roach raised an eyebrow and returned the deodorant to its place.

"Well no, it's always been irritating as fuck, but the bastard has never listened to me in all these years."

"' _The bastard'_ , you must be talking about little old me." Ghost burst into the bathroom, for some reason his skull mask was in place though his shirt was off, obviously it was the repulsive one on the counter.

"Who else but you, numpty..." Soap mumbled, rolling his eyes. With Ghost's entrance there was a wafting scent of strong body odor, Soap cringed and physically shrank back, Roach didn't look bothered by it at all and let out a laugh at Soap's words, blissfully not noticing his boyfriend's thoroughly stinky body. "Ugh, Ghost, you need a goddamn shower." He added, no longer able to ignore the smell, and pinched his nose closed.

Ghost barked out a laugh and lifted his arm and the bottom of his mask above his nose, then sniffed his armpit, blowing out air with a 'woooo' sound. "For once, you're actually right about something, MacTavish." He slicked his hand across his under arm, collecting a considerable amount of sweat and waved in front of Soap, who ducked away from the hand.

"I swear if you touch me with that shite, I'll toss your arse into the nearest dimension with unbearable and never ending pain." Soap threatened in the doorway, clenching his fist for good measure.

"Big fucking deal." Ghost said, scoffing and slipping next to Roach, dangling his surely smelly arm around him. Either though true love or...polite grace, Roach doesn't react to the odor, in fact, he rolls his eyes at Ghost and leans into his arms.

Soap smirked and jutted his chin out in the direction next to Ghost, "...Without Roach."

That got to him, Ghost's eyes bulged almost out of his head and both of his arms wrapped around Roach in a protective side hold. "Sodding fucking hell, alright I won't put my hands on ya, calm down you sadist grouchy prick."

Finally, Roach reacted to his smelly boyfriend, "God, Simon, you really do need a fucking shower..." Roach said, waving a hand in front of his crinkled nose, the freckles lost in the wrinkles. Even so, he didn't make a move to get away from Ghost.

"That's it, the lot of ya. I get the point. I was going to take a fucking shower anyways..." Ghost muttered with an appalled expression and removed one of his arms from around Roach to lift his mask completely off his face, a row of hard lines between his dark pulled down brows, a prominent frown on his mouth.  
Roach gave him an apologetic smile and took the arm that was taken off from him and put it back in place, patting Ghost's damp from sweat forearm. "Sorry, just being honest. That's the most important part of a relationship, right?"

"I could argue that one, Bug." Ghost said mischievously, leering at Roach, who's eyebrows rose with understanding. Of course he knew what horribly perverted things his boyfriend had in mind. "There are certainly much other important parts..." His hands came down to grab Roach's ass firmly in his hands, making the younger man gasp in surprise.

Soap's eyes made contact with the ceiling as he rolled them and sighed. "Right here, ya know..."

"You can always leave, mate." Ghost didn't look away from Roach and started leaving small kisses of the side of his face.

"Oh I plan to, but tell me, how, after all these goddamn years have you not learned to put your disgusting shite in the hamper like a normal fucking person?" Soap snapped with a flippant wave of his hand in the direction of Ghost's mess of clothes on the counter.

"How have you not learned after all these years to not be so uptight and take it easy like a normal fucking person?" Ghost shot back, his head snapped over to Soap.

"We're talking about a germ's paradise right on our bathroom counter! This has nothing to do with being uptight!"

"Oh, sure it doesn't, you're always jumping on my arse for every little thing!"

"And you're always in my business with your constant commentary!"

"Can you two shut up, jesus christ, you two are best friends, cut the pointless fucking arguments." Roach tore away from Ghost's hold and walked over to the offending article of clothing meaning to throw it in the basket himself but was cut off by Ghost picking it up first.

"You want me to get it off the counter, _sir_?" Ghost asked in a mocking voice, all but sneering at Soap and ignoring his boyfriend's words.

"Aye, that would be the decent thing to do." Soap said, mimicking his tone.

"Well, here you go then."

A smug smile crossed Ghost's features as he picked up the t-shirt with a hand and pulled it backwards, Soap had no time to react before the near soaking wet shirt slapped on his chest.

* * *

"And that was how I almost accidentally murdered my supposed best mate." Soap said, pacing about in the bedroom, recapping Price on the day's events, the two of them exhausted after a long day, Price putting up with the formal lot and Soap with the less than formal Simon Riley. Soap made the smart decision to not chase down Ghost as he dodged his ready to punch fist and left his old home to come to his new one, all but collapsing into Price's arms, after a extra long shower at their place and change of clothing first.

"You two are still at each other's throats? You ever heard of something called letting it go?"

"I'm stubborn, you know that, and so is he...and neither of us like to say sorry, that's the main problem." Soap grunted, running his hand through his mohawk, Price rose from the dark blue lounge chair in the corner of the bedroom and gave Soap a tight embrace, his lips pressed into Soap's hair.

"My advice is that maybe that means you need to be the bigger man and say it first, eh?" Price said, all muffled by the thick mohawk.

"You're right, of course, but he's infuriating and egotistical, and a git to the fullest extent, which means...simply apologizing is easier said than done." Soap replied, melting into Price's hug, his arms finding their favorite place, wrapped around the older man's firm middle.

Price chuckled and kissed the top of his head. "I believe in you, love."

"Enough about me and Ghost's shite, you've heard it too much these past few days...how was your day?" Soap asked, pulling out of the hold just enough to look up at Price, reading the tired creases on the corner of his eyes and frowning.

"Let's see, what do I love more than being forced to dress in a suit and tie and sat next to Kamarov for an entire lunch period? Absolutely everything, it was awful." Price answered dryly, he looked about a few mere seconds away from sinking right back into that chair in the corner, or Soap's arms again, Soap hoped for the latter, so he took it upon himself to keep Price standing, his strong arms anchoring the older man in place.

Soap nuzzles his way under Price's jaw and lets out a long held in exhale. "Sounds like fun. Tell me he at least isn't trying to get you, or us, to go to his dinner party of muppets."

"He is."

"Oh hell. We'd stick out like bollocks on a bulldog at one of his fancy parties..."

"Tell me about it."

"He's not going to let it go, is he?"

"Not until me or someone I love dies or is hospitalized."

"That's a bit extreme, but I could arrange Ghost being hospitalized."

"Soap..."

"Alright, don't say I never offered." Soap said, pulling out from his warm place on Price's chest and kissing him soundly on the lips, the smile he received in return was like a shot of hot coffee, hot and comforting. He removed himself from Price's arms and walked to the long table at the foot of the bed, it might have been a bench before, but now it was scattered and covered with clothing and the object Soap was searching for — his journal.

"I'm just gonna come out and ask, are you ever planning to tell Ghost and Roach about moving in? Quite frankly, I'm losing hope."

Soap froze in place, flipping through the pages of his journal and looked up to Price, a guilty expression on his features telling Price everything he needed to know, not that it was what he wanted.

"Soap...you have to tell them eventually, and by that I mean within the next few days. You're moving in next bloody week, for god's sake." Price said with a stern look, his hands on his hips, breaking out the scolding teacher moves. Usually a turn on, right now, a reminder of how much Soap puts off...everything.

In one move, Soap tucked his journal into his pocket and flopped down on the bed, his hands came up and covered his face, shaking his head. "Ugh, I know I need to but..how can I do it without upsetting them? They're gonna be lost with me. And now I've been out of sorts with Ghost..." Soap said, letting out a low groan.

Price sat on the edge of the bed and put his hands together. "The two of you will make up, and they'll be fine, Soap, they're grown men."

Soap peeked through his fingers and shot a look at Price, his eyes slit in a questioning manner. "Are we talking about the same Ghost and Roach here? You did hear the story I told you about Ghost, right?"

Price chuckled and laid back so he was side to side with Soap, his arms rested behind his head. "Yes. And I'm telling you, they'll be ok."

"I know, I know. It's just..I feel like I'm their big brother, ya know? Responsible for 'em." It seemed like Soap was pulling excuses out of a hat, maybe one of Price's millions, but it wasn't on purpose, it was a valid reason, as was this. "Ghost doesn't have any family besides me and Roach, his biological family was either the worst kinds of people, or straight up abandoned him, and I don't want him to think I'm like that... No matter how much we fight, he's my brother." He confessed in a hushed voice.

"Love, Ghost, even if the two of you are fighting right now, knows that you care about him, moving out won't change that. But if you're having any kind of doubts or hesitation..you don't have to move in with me, you know." Price said looking over at him, a wry smile on his face.

Oh no, no, that was the exact opposite problem Soap was having, he instantly moved his hands away from his face and turned his head to Price. "I don't have any doubts. There is zero doubting here, Price. I want this, with you. Everyday. God, I want it so bad." Soap told him earnestly, rolling from his back and onto Price's body. He burrowed his face in the older man's chest. "The dishes won't get done, the garbage will pile, they can't do laundry, for fuck's sake. Roach, bless his soul, but he killed my first leather jacket, he thought you could put it in the washer on delicate, that already fucked it up, but then he put it in the dryer. Let's just say it became literal beef jerky and Hellraiser ate some of it and had to visit the vet." Soap mumbled into the fabric of Price's shirt.

"Soap, we barely do the dishes. Remember our anniversary plates that ended up tossed out? And those were my bloody good ones. Mac will be shocked not to see them at Thanksgiving...and they were a gift from his wife. Not looking forward to explaining that one."

"Ah, aye. You have a point there." Soap sighed and breathed in the faint scent of tobacco that resided on Price's clothing. "Guess you've discovered my bad habit number...whatever, don't ever have me be the one to tell people anything or I'll just put it off for as long as I can... Remember that one time I delayed ordering those coffee beans and then your efficient self did it for me me? I can be terrible with this stuff, Pri, really bloody terrible." Soap made a gruff noise and burrowed himself closer to Price.

"Well, it's never too late to work on it, I wasn't always this way, I chalk my productivity to countless bad experiences and age..." Price stopped and peered down at Soap, from the younger man's prospective, his mouth was hidden in the bristly hair of his beard, but he could tell from his eyes that there was a frown there, a deadpan expression to the fullest extent. "I set myself up for the old man thing, didn't I?" Price asked, his annoyed face was deceitful because he sounded like he was a moment away from laughter. Ah, he was warming up to the endearment after all, Soap nodded in response and Price rolled his eyes. "Bollocks..."

"Are you trying to be a good influence?" Soap asked, picking lightly at Price's beard.

"You certainly don't make it easy for me, particularly when you waltz around right in front of me half naked, or less, when I'm working. The good influence thing goes out the window damned quick then."

Soap gave him a sheepish grin, a naughty glint in his eyes that suggested, or boldly told, that he didn't regret that in the least. "Maybe by the time I'm an old man, I'll stop postponing things so much. For now, getting me to do something before the last minute is a lost cause."

Price allowed that because it was true, but still comforted Soap because he loved him, no matter how much he avoided the most trivial of things. His hand ran up and down Soap's back as he hummed what sounded like 'Silent Night', even if it was just near summer time, not Christmas, and Price wasn't a religious man. Other than the soothing low melody from Price, it was quiet for a while, a nice kind, one he never got at his other place. It was the most obvious fact ever that he wanted to be here, that he belonged here, he wasn't sure if he meant this house or Price's arms, but there wasn't a difference in his mind, this right here was home. His friends would be fine, they'd understand, they'd be happy for him, hell, they'd be happy to have their privacy and a place for their own too. The timing was at just the right at the point in both of their relationships. It was time for Soap to take that dive after things got patched up between Ghost and him.

Soap sat up and looked Price directly in the eyes, he looked sleepy, warm, and colossally attractive with his hands now resting behind his head. "OK, no more procrastinating." Soap said, he took one of Price's signature moves and bent back down, pressing a promise sealed in a kiss to his lips. Price moved one of his hands to the back of Soap's head, stroking over the shaved part and mussing with the longer pieces of hair before pulling out of the kiss, a contagious smile left behind.

"No more bloody procrastinating..."


	5. Chapter 5

Arguing with your best mate was unpleasant for everyone involved; whether it be boyfriends, other people in your group of friends, even the loyal customers who depended on you suffered from the backlash of it. That was the very unfortunate predicament that was happening with Soap MacTavish and his best friend of several years, Simon Riley. It was all very foolish, really, the whole bundle of tension between them began with such a trivial, and not out of the ordinary, thing; Ghost intrusively harassing Soap over his sex life with Price. It wasn't like Soap hadn't dealt with Ghost barging his way into his personal affairs before, but when you tact on the issues with Soap's beloved and mischievous cat, Hellraiser, ...borrowing the Brit's skull balaclavas for a make-shift bed, the recent and extremely mature move of Ghost throwing his sopping stinking sweat soaked shirt at Soap, and the constant petty fights thanks to somewhat clashing personalities all caused a major snowballing effect to occur. And now there was a huge fucking mountain of problems, so buried, that an avalanche of a fight was just bursting to happen at any point.

Though the whole thing had been driving everyone mad (even the usually cheerful-no-matter-the-circumstances, Gaz), Roach and Price were the true victims in the (seemingly) minor rivalry, for they were the ones who had to deal with their boyfriends insistent whining about their friend and whatever it was that they had done to annoy them that day. Which, as of late, was just about everything they did or said.

And they were sick of it.

Which meant there was only one solution (if you'd rather not default to alcoholism, the problem is, they were already pushing that anyways); a friend-tervantion. A bro-vention? Is that what Gaz called it? Or was that Ghost? It was hard for Roach to be certain since Ghost and Gaz have nearly identical voices, in tone, accent, and pronunciation, even their vocabulary was scarily similar. There had been an occasion or two when they, plastered out of their minds, messed with Roach, Gaz acting as Ghost sweet talking Roach while holding onto him from behind, and Roach fell for it completely, but that was the day the two Brits learned this lesson; don't fuck with Gary Sanderson, he's as deadly as he is friendly. And you should never mess with the guy that cooks your meals or shares your bed. To make a long story short (too late), they didn't pretend to be the other around Roach ever again. To this day, the two of them will never look at ice cream the same. But it was still a mystery as to how much Gaz actually enjoyed Roach grabbing his ass — by accident. Then again, with Gaz, most things were a puzzle. Who was he even interested in besides green striped fruit? Truth be told, there were kinks that Gaz most likely had that Roach would be horrified to know. Ghost would genuinely intrigued, but then again, his sanity was questioned daily. Even by his own boyfriend.

It was hard to rile up a guy like Gary Sanderson, he's always been the most positive and cool-headed one of the group, the peacemaker, the voice of reason, so that's why he was the very person to step up and stage the 'brovention' (or whatever it was called.) Ghost had been a particular nuance at work on Friday, not that he'd ever call his boyfriend that, but he honestly could be a colossal instigator. Earlier during that morning, he "accidentally" mixed up Soap's orders, causing a horde of angry customers to come back up to the counter and demand it to be fixed. Soap was too busy up to his neck in correcting the disastrous mishap, that he had no time to plot his revenge, but Roach was worried it'd be something monumental. Soap could be quite vindictive and unforgiving especially when it came to payback, which left the window for Roach set things in motion to be patched up between Soap and Ghost a very narrow one.

On Saturday, the one day they had off, Roach decided to meet Price in a secret place to discuss the plan for the...whatever-vention-intervention, and texted the location to a place that was quiet and rarely visited by both of their boyfriends, one that neither Soap or Ghost would be caught dead in, mostly because it had to do with a talent both of them lacked, — the recipe book section of a book shop. Roach had to admit, he was having a little bit too much fun with the classified meeting, he even dressed in his 'incognito' attire, wearing all black, which was odd transition for the young American who had a thing for bright blues, greens, and reds. Spy attire planning was the easy part, convincing Ghost that he had to head out — alone — would be the difficult part. One might find it hard to believe, but Ghost was kinda clingy and basically Roach's shadow. Hard to part him from his "LoveBug".

Technically the black hoodie he was wearing belonged to Ghost, and smelt oddly like beer and Axe body spray, perfume ala Simon Riley and Roach thought it was irresistible. While pulling the hoodie over his head, Roach resisted reciting a speech from Star Wars in the mirror, ever so tempting, and stuffed his hands into the pockets of the jacket as he left the bedroom. Walking on the tips of his toes, Roach peeked around the corner of the hallway and into the living room, an unmasked, shirtless-just-rolled-of-bed-messy-haired Ghost was sitting on the edge of the couch (a blanket under his ass that was in place ever since the night they walked in on Soap and Price), a video game controller in hand and he was cursing obscenities at the TV screen. Nothing was missing from the scene but one thing, Soap MacTavish on the other end of the couch, spewing his own collection of vulgarities at either the other players or Ghost, all in good fun of course. It was that glaring missing factor that was the exact reason why Roach and Price needed to push them into making up. No way would the two notoriously stubborn guys do it on their own. But it was obvious they had to be missing the good ol' days when they weren't plotting each other's murder on a daily basis. Maybe just a monthly one.

It didn't matter how well he planned it, there wasn't a route for Roach to avoid his boyfriend as he made his way to the front door. He could walk as if the floor were made out of claymores and the softest of footfalls would make it go off, but it would be useless. Ghost had a literal mental radar capable of two things; sensing anything edible in his general vicinity and the one thing that would make sneaking out a total failure...detecting Roach wherever he was. There's even been times he's sleep walked to Roach in their bed in the middle of the night. Including the evening they had a bad fight and Ghost ended up on the couch, but sure enough, he was back in their bed two hours later, not a wink of consciousness about him, but he was mumbling "mmm, my Bug" when he flopped on the bed and pulled a formerly sleeping Roach into his arms. Kinda impossible to stay mad after that, neither one of them mentioned the fight in the morning, but Ghost was significantly apologetic in a way as he burrowed his way into Roach's chest and said sorry for "being a wanker". People would be shocked to know just how sweet Ghost was, of course he was a little rough and a touch obnoxious at times, but when he was alone with Roach there was a whole different side to him. A side Roach hoped he could use to his advantage as he attempted to slip past his boyfriend, casual as possible.

Roach took a deep breath, tugged on the bottom hem of his (Ghost's) long sleeved black hoodie, and stepped fully into the dimmed living room. Curtains were always drawn during Ghost's extended video game marathons, apparently the darker the room, the easier to concentrate. So much for that cleverly crafted concentration, the moment Roach was in sight, Ghost fumbled with the controller in his hand and gave him a sly grin, not even a second later his expression drastically changed, brows pulled down to an all time low and mouth crooked into an outraged sneer as a loud explosion went off on the medium-sized television screen and the words 'You Died' were shown.

"Aw that's fucking bollocks! I looked away one fucking second...I can't believe this," Ghost shouted at the TV, and Roach took this as his opportunity to make his way to the front door. But he was stopped in his tracks. "Bug! I was kicking arse, 'Kill-Streak Riley' is what they call me, but that's all gone in a second...why must my boyfriend be so bloody damn sexy and my attention span a poor excuse for one?" Ghost looked from the TV to Roach, who was half-way to the door, his brows crinkled together in confusion. "Oi, where're you off to looking like you're ready to ramshackle every house in Hereford?"

Like this was going to be a simple thing to talk his way out of. Of course it wasn't. Roach sighed and turned back around, forcing an easy smile and sauntered over to Ghost, the Brit quirked his own smile at the way Roach walked to him and leaned back on the couch, making room on his lap, apparently he thought that Roach was going to sit on him and he looked severely disappointed when the younger man stopped directly in front of him and didn't. Ghost's lap did look painfully inviting, particularly since he was only wearing boxers, but Roach had to compose himself before he actually let himself collapse onto it.

"Something wrong with what I'm wearing?" Roach asked casually, crossing his arms and flashing an innocent smile. "These are your clothes after all..."

"I noticed. Nothing wrong with it, just odd as hell, since when do you dress like...that?" Ghost waved his hand, gesturing to Roach's outfit with a raised brow.

"I don't know, I wanted to, that's all..no big deal. Maybe I just wanna look like I'm doing the walk of shame after a long night of sex with Simon Riley, took his clothes as a souvenir." Roach had to admit to himself, that was a good one, and it certainly got Ghost smug and flustered all at the same time. "Look, I have to go..." Roach swallowed hard and quickly skimmed through random excuses in his brain, trying to pick one that didn't seem too far fetched. "Uh — it's a surprise, can't tell you." He finished coolly like he wasn't about to slap his own self on the forehead. Wow. That was the best he could come up with after the first smooth line? Out of the vast array of things to choose from, he picked surprise...as if that would get his nosy boyfriend off his tail.

Just as expected, Ghost sat up from his leaned back position and looked up at Roach with raging curiosity, his eyes brimming with excitement that was innocent and youthful as it was naughty. "Oh, a surprise, hmm...couldn't be a birthday..mine's not till August. Does it have to do with what's under that hoodie, eh? Or what's not?" Ghost's eyes glinted as he reached up and toyed with the zipper on the front, pulling it down a few centimeters.

Roach controlled his breathing and fought the urge to jump on Ghost with that face he was making. Either way, he didn't remove his fingers from the zipper. "Might as well not even guess, Simon." Roach mumbled, rolling his eyes.

"Fine, I'm busy anyways, no time to play into your infuriatingly vague blue ballin' guessing game." Ghost retorted, slumping back into the cushions and retrieving his controller in one hand, the other patted at the seat next to him. "Sure you can't join me for a quick match, Team BuggyBoo show the wankers how it's done?" He asked, now rubbing the cushion in smooth, suggestive motions, playing it up with wriggled brows. There was always something more implied behind anything Ghost said, and right now it was nothing short of dirty.

Roach gnawed at his bottom lip and snapped his eyes away from the opening next to his warm and comfortable boyfriend, thinking an afternoon on the couch making out and playing video games was much more appealing than a stealth mission. "I really need to get going or I'll be late." Roach's voice was lined with strong regret for shooting down the offer, his hand rubbed anxiously at the back of his neck.

Ghost scoffed in disappointment. "No one will bloody play with me...not you, the cat...Soap...I'm a lonely Ghost fighting against a never ending siege of gits."

"Sounds like a typical multiple-player match..." Roach mumbled under his breath, "Simon, look, I'll be back in — less than two hours, OK? I'll even bring some beer home with me and we can play for hours...but I'm sure we'll find other ways to waste the night." He said, sweetening the words to the best of his ability with a soft, wicked smile, his fingers mimicked the move made by Ghost, tugging on the zipper.

The words seemed to placate Ghost, for his frown melted away into a heated smile. "Alright, LoveBug...I'm holding you to that. Quite literally when you get back. Can I at least have a kiss before you off and leave me here all by my lonesome?" Ghost asked hopefully, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his thighs.

"The Lonesome Ghost, hah..." Roach said, coughing out a laugh. He couldn't help but be amused by his own stupid puns.

Ghost had a carefully held blank expression at the comment, but there was crinkles forming on the edge of his eyes as he stared just on the edge of adoringly up at Roach. "Clever, Bug. Now, kiss?" Ghost pleaded softly, his blue eyes wide and shiny even in the darkened living room.

Roach gave him a short nod and bent down, placing a kiss on his boyfriend's lips that was far too chaste for Ghost's taste, leaving Roach to catch himself as Ghost slipped his hands behind the younger man's back and yanked him forward, his hands fell on Ghost's shoulders, he patted them a few times in an attempt to comfort the brooding Brit and stand up right. "I won't be long, promise." Roach said in a reassuring tone, leaving on last kiss on Ghost's lips before straightening himself back up, he twisted his upper half and heard it make a cracking noise.

"Fine, go already so you can come back..." Ghost grumbled with an flippant wave of his hand as he slumped back into the couch and picked the controller up, his eyes fixed on Roach the entire time he backwards walked to the front door.

Just as Roach swung open the front door and prepared to throw himself out of it, he turned his head back once more and caught Ghost blowing him a kiss, he did the cheesy hand motion of grabbing it and putting it in his pocket.

"I'll save that for later..." Roach told him with a wink. "Love you!"

"Love you too, you sappy Bug." Ghost chuckled, a affectionate grin was heavy on his features.

With a glance to his left, Roach spotted a pair of Ghost's black sunglasses laying on the small wooden table by the doorway next to a dumped pile of keys (most of which Roach had no idea what they unlocked) and a petite dish filled with Jolly Ranchers (Ghost's candy obsession). What could be more inconspicuous than a pair of sunglasses? He pondered for a moment if his boyfriend would notice the missing pair, but when he snapped his head back around, Ghost was fully enveloped back in his video game, his brows pinched together and his mouth pressed in a firm line, he knew then that sunglasses were the last thing on his mind. Roach smashed them on his face in a last minute rush as he all but ran out of the front door of their home.

* * *

All things considered, it wasn't the best time of the year to be dressed head to toe in all black, well it wouldn't have been a problem if it was an average cloudy, chilly day in Hereford, but the sun was fully blazing with a heat akin to Summer in the desert. Roach was from California; sun, beaches, and nearly perfect weather year round; moving to England was a big change for the former beach bum that was Gary Sanderson; his thriving sense of adventure and need to break out of the routine and typical life he was heading towards is what drew him to go on the solo vacation that brought him here in the first place. The bold and slightly maniacal British man with the (oddly) charming skeleton grin and mask to match is what kept him here. Falling for Ghost may have been instantaneous, and he never was a believer in that kind of stuff before, falling for the weather, on the other hand, took some time. He still wasn't crazy about it, but Ghost would pile the jackets and scarves on him in the middle of winter and wrap his arms all around Roach to keep him well and insulated. That was good enough for him.

Right now, he was sweating bullets as he walked down the gray, rustic stones on the Main Street sidewalk, his trainers thumped on the ground in a steady beat, the ray of sun hit him directly on the top of his disarrayed sandy hair. His hand lifted up and mussed around in the overgrown locks that fell on his damp forehead and pushed them back. If his mother were here, she'd lightly bicker about the length and probably end up sitting him down in the nearest chair and whipping out the pair of hair cutting scissors she kept in his purse at all times. The joy of being the child of a hairstylist. If she'd even make in to Hereford anytime soon, hell, he didn't even know when the next time he'd be back in Ventura, California again. The thought made a ping of sadness hit him in the chest, but he couldn't bring himself to even think of returning there for good. He loved this town, the smells of the local shops; soap stores, restaurants, and their coffee shop. The scenery was beautiful as well. Ghost wasn't an outdoorsy person, but Roach still managed to drag him out of the house to places other than the local pub, like the hiking trails or camp sites. It was almost impossible to convince Ghost to go camping again after the last time...let's just say they both came home from that trip unnervingly itchy. They discovered that they had found themselves on a patch of poison ivy. Roach blamed that completely on Ghost, he insisted that if they were being all "mountain man-like" for the weekend, they might as well go all the way. Somehow that ended up with Ghost flat on his back, and the position was flipped several times over. One awkward doctor's appointment later, they were left with a jar of gel they had to rub in on each other' asses for a week. Normally, that would've been a welcome task, but the burning and stinging that came with each touch of the other's hand could have been left out.

Tempting as it was, Roach refrained from pulling the black sweater over his head to get some relief from the near suffocating heat. It would take away from the whole "in disguise" look if he was left wearing the red as a stop sign shirt that was underneath it. But he needed something to relieve the heat, without putting on a strip show (Ghost would hate if he missed that). He spotted a drink cart on the corner street, conveniently right at his turn. There was a small line which left Roach with enough time to rummage through Ghost's black jeans (a tad tight on him. How Ghost managed to stay so fit on his diet of booze and sweets is mystery to all), hoping there was some kind of money hidden inside. He patted the front and back pockets with no luck judging how flat it felt on the exterior of the rough fabric.

On the edge of a mini panic, Roach glanced up and saw the line had dissipated and he was now the current customer. His face flushed as the grumpy plump man running the cart stared on at him expectantly. Clearly he was in the business of dealing with people. And so good at it.

"Um — I'll take a lemonade. Extra ice, please." Roach grunted and gave the man his best boyishly charming apologetic smile. While the cart's owner was turned away and making his order, Roach was pulling any and everything out of Ghost's pockets, desperately searching for an item that felt like a coin. His search was turning up empty, all he felt so far was a foil wrapped condom (had to be old since they haven't used one in months), jolly ranchers (of course) and a crumpled up list of songs that he shoved back down. With that shove, he moved his hands and buried them each into a back pocket, and finally, he came across some coins and slapped them proudly on the small table, feeling a huge sense of relief.

The apparently always angry looking man running the cart turned back around and pushed the icy lemonade in the plastic cup forward towards Roach. Just the sight of the water condensation sliding down the edges made Roach's dry mouth water, he slid the money to the man with one hand and reached for the drink with his other. But before the cold liquid could come into contact with his chapped lips, the cart runner made a grunt of annoyance, Roach's eyes snapped up.

"You're short..." The man said holding the coins in the palm of his hand, the lines in his forehead deepened, as did his frown.

At first, Roach was insulted and prepared to make a witty comeback from the viewpoint of a shorter guy, having acquired many since he was the shortest in their group (5'10/177.8 cm) but then he noticed the coins in the owner's hand. Roach choked back a whine as the man started take back the lemonade and he desperately pleaded. "Wait! Oh, shit, hold on — there's gotta be more in here somewhere." Roach squinted at the sign on the front to see exactly how much he owed the man and once again started uselessly rummaging the pockets of Ghost's jeans, inwardly cursing himself that he forgot to bring his wallet.

A small line had formed behind Roach and the cart runner had no patience for Roach's pointless search, so he snatched up the drink and turned away.

"No, come on, man just give me a second..." Roach mumbled in a half-hearted attempt to stall the man, but it was to no avail. That was when Roach smelled the familiar strong waft of over sprayed cologne and heard a harsh toned voice that he would know anywhere. Roach froze in his tracks.

"Here. I'm sure this will more than cover it." Said the man with the nasally voice that cut through the peaceful calm of the outside, slipping the cart owner a overly generous amount of pounds and retrieving the drink from the cart owner.

Roach reluctantly quirked his head just enough so that the man came into view; none other than Kingfish himself, Vladirmir Makarov, his blue and green irises piercing and beady as ever, his lip turned up in what may have been a smirk, but it looked more like a disgusted grimace, and his nose, well, it certainly appeared to be shaped slightly crooked more off to the side than the last time he'd been at RSASS and Shine, no doubt that it was Price's handy work. The same stuffy, over-priced 3 piece suit was still on him, almost the exact one from the last time Roach had seen him in the cafe, sans the blood stain on the crisp white collared shirt. Roach kept his expression mutual as possible, he felt a bitter resentment towards the Russian for all tormenting he'd done to Soap, but at the same time he was hesitantly grateful that he paid for the lemonade, if it was even for him.

"Well, are you going to take it?" Makarov nodded once at the lemonade.

Roach swallowed hard, on one hand, his thirst was out of control, on the other, Kingfish was holding the drink, but it wasn't like he could have poisoned it in the 10 seconds Roach wasn't watching, so Roach moved out of the line so others could take their order and walked slowly to the other end of the cart where Makarov stood with the oasis in a cup. He stuck out his hand and gripped the plastic with just the tips of his fingers, careful to be sure that they had no awkward contact aside from the eye contact. Makarov watched him the entire time with his hard stare that was impossible for Roach to read, but it wasn't pleasant, not that Makarov ever gave a vibe of sincere kindness.

"Um, thanks..." Roach muttered as politely as he could manage and gulped down half the drink in one go, he did his best to contain a moan but couldn't stop himself from saying, "Fuck me, that's good..." He intended to whisper to himself, but Makarov must have heard, for the smallest of smirks fell on his mouth, Roach did his best to ignore the creepiness rolling off of it and continued drinking, his heated body finally getting some refreshment and a much needed cool down.

"It's no problem, you'll be needing all the help you can get soon enough. With money, I mean." Makarov said, adjusting buttons on the front of his suit jacket and crossing his arms.

Roach squinted his eyes and lowered the cup from his mouth, wiping it with the back of his hand. "What the hell are you talking about?" Roach questioned.

"I've said too much, you'll see soon. Or maybe later." Makarov shrugged as if he was pondering just when and leaned in closer to Roach, whispering right into his ear, Roach resisted socking the man right in the exact place Price had. "You and your friends' little dream will be coming to an end." He then patted Roach on the shoulder and began to walk past him. "See you around, baker boy."

Baker boy? Oh he was gonna kill him. Ghost definitely would want to after learning he was touched him. Or throw Roach into a decontamination shower.

Both sounded like reasonable options.

* * *

The rest of the way to the bookshop, Roach was confused, and quite frankly, pissed off. What the fuck did Makarov mean by their dream "coming to an end". The words were definitely ominous and threatening from an ominous and threatening person. Whatever Makarov hoped to achieve from saying that to him, he couldn't be sure. Probably was guessing that he'd pass along the message to Ghost and Soap, which he would. At some point. But right now, things needed to get fixed and as normal as things got with them before that bomb got dropped. As if things were strained enough, tossing Makarov back in the mix was the last thing they needed.

The outside of the bookshop was deceitful for its interior, the warn rusty colored bricks and vintage swing open door disguised what was actually a modern and well lit charming shop. Tall metal bookcases housed thousands of books from wall to ceiling, plush, brightly colored lounge chairs and tables were arranged at the center of the store in modern fashion. Roach didn't bother to remove the sunglasses while he made his way to the cooking section. The shop wasn't overly crowded and no one really paid much mind to him dressed fully in black as he walked past them with his hands shoved into Ghost's jean pockets. Roach knew he had the right idea coming in disguise.

Rounding the corner of the cook book aisle, Roach instantly spotted Price at the end and jogged over to him, letting out a disappointed sigh as he gave him a look over.

Price was dressed in a pale blue t-shirt and comfortable looking jeans, of course he still had headgear, but it was a dark blue beanie instead of a boonie hat. Basically he looked nothing he was on a top secret meeting as he glanced over the book titles with meager interest. Roach specifically told him to look casual, yet disguised, he had no idea how this outfit could be classified as that. The first part he nailed, the second? Not so much.

"Wow, dude, nice going with the stealth outfit, I'd never be able to guess it was you." Roach muttered sarcastically. "You didn't put any effort into this at all!"

Price turned away from the books to face Roach, at once, his eyebrows rose significantly high and his hand clamped over his mouth, suppressing laughter, his pointer finger popped up and rested on the side of his nose. Roach let out a huff of breath and planted his hands on his hips, his foot tapped on the wooden floor while Price tried to get his muted chuckles under control.

"And this is funny because...?" Roach asked, rolling his eyes and his head a bit. Price seemed to stop chuckling, but then he glanced over Roach again and shook his head, giving out a bark of laughter. "Price!" Roach said, shoving Price lightly on the shoulder to shut him up.

"Was this whole thing necessary? I mean disguises, Roach, honestly? You look like you're about to break into every house in the neighborhood...or go to a gay bar with those bloody ridiculous sunglasses." Price informed him with a wide smirk directed at the shades covering Roach's eyes. Roach let out a "hmph" and stood his ground, keeping the glasses in place.

"Come on, man, you have to admit this is pretty cool! I planned this stealth outfit for so long, been dying to get the chance to use it. " Roach boasted, rounding his shoulders.

"A gay bar stealth outfit...this is what you've been working on for so long?" Price asked dryly.

"What's so 'gay' about?" Roach asked defensively, patting down the front of the hoodie.

"The jeans, the extra tight hoodie, all in black and the sunglasses. And the fact that you're wearing it pushes it a tad in that direction."

"Says the fellow gay..." Roach offered with a wave of his hand.

Price put up his hands in a gesture of agreement. "I'm not denying that at all." Price flashed a grin and chuckled again, leaning back into the sturdy metal bookcase, his arms crossed in front of his chest. "I hate to break it to you, but think you're a little too enthusiastic about this, lad." It didn't look like Price was particularly pained at telling Roach the blunt truth with his ever-present smirk.

"Is it the sunglasses, are they too much?"

"For someone like Ghost who wears sunglasses like an ordinary pair of glasses? No. For a bright ball of sunshine like you? Yes. It's drawing more attention than it is reflecting it. There's my constructive criticism you." Price said as if Roach openly asked for such criticism, he didn't, but it still made Roach more self aware and doubt the whole outfit. Dammit Price.

"Fine, fine." Roach grumbled, removing the sunglasses from his face and tucking them on the front of his shirt. "This remind you of Soap?" He said nodding at the sunglasses. Soap was famous for placing sunglasses on the front of his henleys...but never actually putting them on his face. Everyone figured it was some sort of odd fashion statement, Roach and Ghost thought it was ridiculous, and Gaz thought it was an invitation to pluck them off Soap at any given chance and wear them himself while saying 'Free samples!'

The name drop of Soap sent a small, soft smile to Price's mouth "Only in style, lad."

"Well, duh, it's not like I said I was the spiting image of him or anything." Roach joked, mimicking Price and standing across him in the book aisle, leaning on the shelf.

"Little too American for me." Price leaned forward a bit with a wink directed at Roach.

"Little too serious for me...won't even go undercover the right way. Ghost totally would have went over the top with his stealth outfit if I asked. This was supposed to be fun and risky." Roach mumbled, not enjoying that his well thought out plan was now rendered useless and made fun of on top of it all.

"Lad, I am under cover, alright. Didn't even tell anyone where I'd be." Price promised.

"Not even Soap?" Roach asked with narrowed eyes.

"Not even him."

"I find that hard to believe."

"Believe it, mate. Soap has no clue where I am now or who I'm with. What about you?" Price inquired, arching a brow and itching the opposite one with his index finger.

Roach sighed and avoided Price's eyes, setting on some French cook book and once again shoved his hands into his pockets. "I, uh, couldn't avoid Ghost. He was sitting right there in the living room when I tried to sneak out."

"Surely you had a good excuse for leaving." Price's faith in him made Roach feel completely embarrassed for what he had to say next.

"Oh, yeah, totally. I told him that it...was a surprise." Roach answered lamely, resisting the urge to bang his head against the book case, especially when he saw Price's jaw drop in bewilderment.

"A surprise..that's honestly the best thing you could come up with?" Price asked rhetorically in a flat voice, rolling his eyes, mirroring a move done by his boyfriend many times. They were so alike, it was scary. Just like Soap had said about him and Ghost.

"Says the man who thinks jeans and shirt is stealth..." Roach said under his breath. "Dammit, it was the fastest way I could get out of there with the least amount of questions, OK? What was your great excuse, oh wise Captain Price? I doubt it was any better than mine." Roach scoffed and pushed off the book case, raising his brows with interest at Price before turning around and skimming over the titles.

"Told Soap I'd be busy today, just like he is with helping Yuri and Nikolai move boxes."

"You're kidding me, that's it? You said you'd be busy? Only?"

"Yes." Price answered simply.

"How the hell did you get out of explaining that?" Roach had a hard time believing that could be the truth, there must be more to it.

"Well..."

* * *

Soap was particularly needy in the evening hours, after the two of them had long days of work and no communication with each other. The moment they'd walk into the door at their place together (very literally together, their arms slung over the other, holding them close), Soap took Price by the hands and pulled his arms around him, the scent of coffee beans and cigar smoke heavy on Soap's skin. Price pushed his face further into Soap's neck just to pull it in deeper. His hands played down lower at the hem of his shirt, teasing fingers felt under, grazing on the skin of Soap's lower back.

Soap let out a low hum and pressed a kiss to Price's mouth, his own hands running up Price's back, digging in deep. "Planning on turning in early tonight, Price?" Soap asked when he pulled away, a wicked glint in his eyes.

"Depends what you mean by turning in...turning in, taking off, going down. Sounds more like it." Price replied, his lip quirking higher with each idea.

"Works for me." Soap kissed Price one more time before pulling him further into the house, right into the kitchen. "But first..." Their hands slowly slid apart as Soap walked over to the cupboard and fished out two glasses, setting them on the granite counter before examining the pint bottle of liqueur that was tucked inside his coat. "Don't know why in God's name some customer gave me this Irish Cream shite." Soap said with a laugh, twisting off the top.

"Must have foolishly assumed you were Irish." Price guessed, slinking behind Soap and nudging his face against Soap's just for the contact.

"If I had a pound for every time someone thought I was Irish, Price, we'd be living in our Majesty's castle. But instead, I have to serve these complete muppets who can't tell the difference between two distinct accents. Ah, well, at least they gave me booze. Even if it is coffee flavored...the same shite I'm around all day. Insulting knock off of my mum's Scottish Creme..." Soap shook his head with a frown, then looked to the ceiling as if apologizing to his late mother. "But I need all the drinks I can after dealing with fucking Ghost all day. God, it's nice to just be..home." Soap reached up and brushed his fingers over the side of Price's face, feeling his beard, and shrugged, lifting the bottle and filling up the two glasses. He took one and spun it around, lifting it for Price to take, he did with a soft smile, his other hand lifted the hat from his head and left it on the counter next to the bottle.

"I bloody hate coffee..." Price muttered, bringing the cup to his nose and sniffing the liquid.

"It's not like we'll have much time to enjoy this rubbish anyways, I have to be up bright and early to help Yuri and Nikolai move shite into that new branch they got for their homeless shelter. I still don't get how they were able to afford that."

"Weren't they barely able to make rent on their old shelter last month?"

Soap took a long sip of the coffee liqueur and tried to keep his grimace under control. Nothing like how mum made it. "Aye, that's what I don't get...they either got a huge donation or Yuri finally took Ghost's drunken advice and became a male escort." A deep laughter almost bubbled up in Soap's throat at the joke made by his estranged best mate, but just the thought of the Brit made a rush of irritation hit Soap, he took a longer swig of the booze, meeting Price's eyes over the edge of the glass.

Price reached up and clamped a hand on Soap's shoulder, knowing exactly what he was feeling at that moment, and rubbed in deep, watching as Soap's eyes all but roll back in his head at the rough pleasure the move brought. Enough to distract the Scot from all thoughts of his current fight with his friend, it did the opposite for Price. Everyday there was more evidence that Ghost and Soap needed to make up already. Not only was everyone else around them suffering from the scuffle, the two people in the center of it were feeling it the most. Roach told him about the secret meeting that they would have tomorrow afternoon. Just as if it were planned out perfectly, Yuri and Nikolai asked for Soap's help to move boxes and make coffee for the volunteers. The kind of help you brought on yourself when you have a set of biceps like Soap and can make a killer cup of coffee, and now Price could easily meet up with Roach with no questions from Soap. But it wasn't like he couldn't tell him anything.

"So, love..." Price started, taking in a slow breath and locking eyes with Soap.

"Hmm?" Soap answered in a low hum, his eyes half lidded, more than ready to be pushed into bed as he finished off the rest of his drink. But first things first.

"I'll be busy tomorrow too." With the statement, Price took Soap's glass from his hand and clasped their hands together, yanking him forward enough that his lips rimmed on the side of Soap's face.

"Oh? With what?"

"This and that..nothing of importance. Or more important than what's going on right here...right now." Price murmured into Soap's ear, nibbling it once, twice, and licking down the underside, all the way to his lips, capturing them in a hard kiss. Price knew that would only keep Soap distracted for a few more minuets, he needed a long term solution, and why not the thing that's been on his mind all day? Price removed his hands from Soap's and ran them up Soap's stomach, catching the shallow breaths the younger man left in his mouth and found his way to the button on the front of Soap's pants, popping it open slowly, letting his tongue work against Soap's all while pulling down the zipper. Now that he had Soap in a full aroused daze, he dropped to his knees and pulled the pants with him, pushing Soap's ass into the counter behind him. Soap licked his bottom lip and caught it between his teeth, watching Price tug down his boxers down his thighs till they hit the top of his boots.

"Might be busy tomorrow, but tonight I have all the time in the world for you..."

Soap's attention was fully focused on other things for the remainder of the evening, like blow jobs on a kitchen floor done by a man that's probably just on the verge of being too old to be knelled down on hard tile for long periods of time. And they didn't make it to the bedroom that night. The dining table would just have to do, until one of the legs broke off. Good thing Price was handy with more than dicks. Quoted directly from the mouth of Soap MacTavish, right before he lost all coherent speech when Price snapped his hips forward.

* * *

Price cleared his throat and shook his head to regain awareness of where he really was right now. "I told him I'd be busy...then distracted him." Price's voice sounded strangled, as if his thoughts were a million miles away in a place that was way beyond anything Roach should be aware of. And he had a good idea. Sadly.

Roach's lip curled up in disgust, he was one second from covering his ears. "Do I even want to know...?"

"Probably not, lad." Price closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head slowly, letting out a breath through his nose, allowing himself to get lost in the previous night for a little while longer. Soap MacTavish did make it hard for a man to focus on anything other than wanting to do absolutely filthy things with him.

"You know, it's a little worrying how good you are at distracting people with...sexual acts...you have a lot of experience with that or something?" Roach couldn't stop the words from leaving his mouth, even if he regret them instantly.

Price's eyes opened slowly, he peered over at Roach, amused. "Thought you didn't want to know."

"I meant, I don't want to know the details of your sex life, per say, but the way you get out of explaining shit with sex is impressive...and a little scary. You haven't done that to Soap often, have you?" Roach asked skeptically, eyeing Price warily.

"What? No, of course not. Soap knows everything, except for this arrangement, of course. But with my ex-partner, sure. I learned it all from him in the first place. Hmm..do you think the middle of a book shop is the best place to talk about this bollocks?" Price adjusted the beanie on his head, his eyes wandered around the book shelves, clearly hoping that Roach would drop the subject.

"Aahh — yeah, you've got a point there." Roach felt a bit awkward for a moment, and started a mini pace in the small book aisle. "Pff, you're just lucky because your boyfriend was busy today, mine was sitting on the couch, extra sulky. And 'extra sulky Simon' is almost worst than 'bottomless pit stomach Simon'. No — wait, scratch that, sulky is so much worse. He makes me feel guilty about everything." Roach muttered, feeling the pang of guilt for leaving Ghost all alone just as strongly as earlier.

"Sorry, lad. Maybe you should have taken my route. Next time, phone me for advice." Price said, walking over and patting Roach on the shoulder. It was identical to the touch Makarov did to him earlier, but felt much different coming from Price. Where Makarov was curt and rough, Price was warm and friendly. Regardless, it did nothing but remind him of the very moment he was trying (and failing, mostly) to forget.

"I'll keep that in mind next time we're planning a behind the scenes intervention on our boyfriends..." Roach said with a half-hearted eye roll. "Maybe I would've if I wasn't already running late. Running into Makarov didn't help..." He blurted out, if he had any less self-control, Roach would have slapped his hand over his mouth and groaned. Well, he had enough restraint to suppress the former, not enough for the latter. A long, deep groan that held within it enough negative emotion, that it caused Price's head jerked back in shock, a look of anger crossed his features.

"Makarov. What'd the bastard do to you?" Price asked through clenched teeth and narrowed eyes, his shoulders bunched up in a defensive stance. If Makarov were here right now, Roach was certain there'd be monumental damage to the entire book collection and Makarov's face by Price's lead fist punches.

"He didn't _do_ anything, exactly. Actually, he bought me a lemonade." Roach scratched the back of his head and watched as Price's face drastically changed from pissed to totally and completely lost, he looked like a gaping fish, but he promptly snapped his mouth shut.

"I can safely say I was not expecting that."

Roach sighed and shrugged. "That's not even the weirdest thing...he uh, said this; 'you and your friends' little dream is coming to an end'. It was seriously pretty creepy, I was surprised there wasn't thunder clapping in the background and some low D note piano music playing...the dude's a walking movie villain. He should consider growing one of those long, curly mustaches to twist when he's doing something evil.."

"'Dream coming to an end...'" Price repeated lowly, ignoring Roach's attempts at jokes and playing with Makarov's words in his head, it didn't take long for him to come to a conclusion. "Obviously he was talking about the coffee shop. He wants to shut it down," Price remarked way too breezily for Roach's liking.

The younger man shoved off the bookcase in a burst of movement and his eyes bulged from his skull. "What?! No, he can't take away our coffee shop! If I can't bake, I can't function properly! And we have no other ways to make money! How the hell do I make sure Ghost and me keep our place with a half completed degree in Fermentation Sciences, huh? And he's banned from working at every other place in Hereford for...poor choices!"

"Fermentation, what?"

"Beer making, basically."

"It all makes sense."

"Price, your sarcasm is not appreciated here! This is my life we're talking about here! And your boyfriend's too, in case you forgot. You know how much Soap loves his job."

"Calm down, calm down. I haven't forgotten, alright? Everything will be fine, lad. Makarov is a walking empty threat, he'd never actually do anything, no matter what he said."

"That's such bullshit. You nearly knocked him on his ass after he harassed Soap for months because you said you were worried he might be serious."

"Fair enough." Price couldn't deny it.

"So how can you tell me to stay calm, when he made a clear threat to me? To all of us?" Roach began pacing again and ran his hands through his hair.

"We can't do much about it right now...we'll just have to keep a close eye on what the slippery bastard is planning and hope we can put the stopper on whatever it is before it goes into motion. Unless it already has..."

Roach stopped and stared at Price, trying to convey his disappointment at his friend's reassuring attitude through his eyebrows, but he probably just looked constipated. "Thank you for the positive words, dude."

Price stared blankly right back at him. "What else do you want me to do, Roach? Go find him and punch him again?" Honestly, Price appeared happy at his own suggestion.

Roach crossed his arms and lifted his brows. "I wouldn't object, bet Soap and Ghost wouldn't either."

"You know who would object? My bosses at the college, I'm lucky enough I haven't faced any retributions for the last...incident. I shouldn't tempt fate by doing it again."

"Good thinking, but if he bumps into you too hard at the grocery store and you retaliate, I'm sure you could pass it off as self defense." Roach persuaded with a innocent smile.

Price chuckled, the two of them remarkably less stressed. "We'll see..better have my speech for that prepared well ahead of time just in case."

"Should we tell Ghost and Soap about Makarov now or later?"

"Later would be ideal, first we need to have them on speaking terms again. And not ones that end in school yard name calling." Price's eyes were dark with the memories of Soap complaining about Ghost for the 8th day in a row, Roach knew his pain.

"You're right. But hey — this could be one more thing to add to the list of why they need to make up! We could tell them about it the same night as the intervention." Roach suggested with a snap of his fingers.

"We are going to need all the motivation we can. I say that would be as good of a time as any to tell them. Now, lad, You'll have to tell me what this whole master plan is now, and what the bloody hell it has to do with the cook book section."

"Oh, right. Back on track. We're gonna have a get together. At Gaz's." Roach stated with a huge grin.

"What? This is your ingenious plan? How are we going to convince Soap and Ghost to be in the same room for extended periods of time?" Price asked with a heavy ring of doubt.

"I never said it was ingenious.." Roach mumbled, his enthusiasm taking a hit thanks to Price's dry negativity, but the positive younger man pushed on, trying to regain his former zealous. "Just think about it carefully. This is easy. What is the one thing that Soap and Ghost love besides us?" He paused and waited for Price to answer, his head lowered with each passing second, with a sigh and a wave of his hand that said "Really?", Roach filled in the blank for him. "Food. We'll lure them there with food, Price, with food. And we're not going to tell them that the other will be there. That's the most important part."

"We lie." Price concluded.

"Not much different than what we did today."

"Technically only you lied, I made Soap's thoughts travel else-where." Price countered, with a twist of a smile.

"Yes we all get that you two are huge sex freaks, but anyways, it's more of 'persuasive distraction', you're good at that, remember? Just tell Soap that Gaz invited the two of you to dinner, show up at his house and — Ghost and me will be there. Before one of them can run out, we shove them into the living room together and tell them we're not leaving until they talk it out!"

"Simple. But sometimes simple works best. Perhaps we could try to get others to come along as well, make it seem more..solid, less suspicious?"

Roach nodded along. "Couldn't hurt. I'll try to get Yuri and Nikolai to come too. If I say there's free booze and the chance for an entertaining show, there's no way they could turn it down."

Price brought a hand up to the side of his face and shook his head slowly. "Is everyone in our friend circle a borderline alcoholic?"

"I think so, Price, I think so."

"Then we use it to our advantage. Tomorrow night?"

"Works for me. Now back to the cook book thing, I need some fresh ideas for what to make, what about you?"

"Lad, all of my recipes are up here." Price pointed to his head. "Never had use for a cook book before, why start now?"

"Because you've probably made Soap the same dishes ever since you got together, right?"

Price was silent long enough for Roach's question to answer itself.

"Exactly, so come on, let's both try something new." Roach said, elbowing Price lightly in the side.

"Fine. But I'm staying as far away from Haggis as I can, I don't bloody care how much Soap says it reminds him of his childhood, I'm not touching goat intestines." Price said with a shudder.

"Couldn't agree more."

* * *

Roach made sure that everything was set in motion, then double checked, then triple checked, and, just to be safe, he made the call one final time to Price with the same question.

"You're totally sure that you and Soap will be there, right?" Roach asked, whispering into his cell phone as he glanced behind him, paranoid that Ghost had already come out of the house. On the other end of the line, Roach could make out a sigh and slapping noise, most likely Price smacking his own forehead in disbelief at the younger man's...worried nature.

"Lad, I told you not even 10 minutes ago that the plan is in motion. I've got that roasted fingerling potatoes rubbish dish you suggested I should make and Soap is with me, I repeat ScotHawk is in tow."

Roach nodded along and let out a breath of relief in the brisk, night air, his eyes snapped up to the streetlamp, somehow thanking it for things following the plan...so far. "Roger that, Captain P. Sorry to keep calling, fuck, I want this to go well, that's all. And Ghost loves potatoes, so he'll stay at least long enough to eat that."

"Ghost?"

"I mean...BooBoo. He loves potatoes." Roach corrected himself, once again shooting a look to the front door window to see if Ghost's shadow was visible.

"You're the one that insisted on call names for our own bloody boyfriends."

"We've all got call names, this is important."

"Except for you, funny how you seemed to avoid getting a ridiculous nickname."

"Like Roach isn't bad enough! Plus, I'm the one who came up with this whole mission, so I get to make the rules." Roach said in a rush, regretting the words when they left his mouth, he could almost perfectly picture Price glaring at him with a look of murder. "Oops. Never mind. But hey! I've got the food you said Soap would love, that strawberry chocolate dipped cheesecake and do you know how stressed I am that it won't even make it to halfway to our destination because Gho—BooBoo is a freakin' walking eating machine."

"Breath, Roach, breath. It's all going to work out, you'll see." Price told Roach in his most reassuring tone he could pull together, which wasn't nearly enough for the ever-fretting younger man. "Look, I've got to go, ScotHawk is finally done fixing his hair, so we're on our way to MelonCap's house now. See you soon. And Roach?"

"Yeah?"

"Relax, lad."

With that, the line went dead and Roach had to swallow down the literal ball of nerves that rose up in his throat when Ghost opened the door and stepped outside in the same moment, sending a grin over to Roach. His face was mask-less and Roach didn't have to resort to sexual bribes to get him that way. Apparently Ghost thought his hair, "looks like a sodding rock star, guess that makes you my groupie, Bug." Not that Roach was too fond of being refereed to as a groupie. Oh well. The jet black hair on the Brit's head stuck up perfectly in the middle, spiked and effortlessly angled just a touch to the left. If Roach wanted to start a mini argument, he'd inform Ghost that it was his handy work from that morning that made his hair look that damn good. But he held his tongue...for now and slipped his phone into the pocket on his jeans.

"Smells bloody amazing, LoveBug. Sure I can't have just one piece?" Ghost slunk up behind Roach and wrapped his arms around him, pressing a kiss to the side of his face before sniffing loudly at the covered glass dish in Roach's hand.

Roach grunted and narrowed his eyes at Ghost, lifting the dish away from his body, far enough that the scent of strawberries wasn't nearly as strong. Was this really a dish meant for Soap? It seemed like Ghost was driven more crazy about the idea of eating it than Soap ever could. "You and me both know that 'one piece' in your world means this entire thing. And for the millionth time, this desert has to make it to Gaz's place...then you can have at it all you want, BooBoo." Roach instantly went from rolling his eyes to them almost bulging out of his head, dropping the mission call name was not on his list of things to do tonight.

"What did you just call me? BooBoo? And I thought I was the one with the sappy nicknames. I hope I hear that one often, kinda adorable, not unlike you." Ghost chuckled and pulled out from behind Roach, practically beaming at the younger man.

Oh great. It all started as a joke, now Ghost was expecting him to call him that? But with the way Ghost's expression was softened and how his fingers brushed on the side of Roach's face made his any negative thoughts melt away. "Heh, OK, BooBoo, we should probably get on our way."

Ghost's thumb grazed down to the slight dip in Roach's chin, settling it there and pulling his face up gently, bending down himself, and kissed Roach firmly for a couple seconds. Roach remembered the first night the two of them spent together, Ghost told him he always wondered what a butt chin felt like. Thinking back on it now, that should have been his first sign to how much of an oddball this guy was, but at the time, he was a little more focused on how amazing it felt when Ghost touched and kissed him. "Sure thing, LoveBug, let's go." Ghost sure didn't look like he wanted to leave, his eyes still made contact with Roach's lips, his own bottom lip was currently being chewed between his teeth like all he wanted to do was take Roach and that cheesecake to the bedroom, once again tempting Roach when he was trying to not be late.

"Let's go." Roach affirmed, taking Ghost's hand from his face and lacing it with his own. Maybe this evening wouldn't be a total disaster after all.

* * *

15 minutes later, Roach discovered just how wrong he was.

Price texted him to say that Nikolai showed up at Melon—Gaz's place right after he and Soap had. However, Yuri hadn't tagged along...which was unusual to say the least. Nikolai and Yuri were attached at the hip for the most part, so Roach couldn't wait to hear what could have possibly separated them that night. As long as they weren't fighting, then it'd be fine. He wasn't sure if him or Price was up for planning another 'bro-vention'. One in a week is quite enough, thank you very much.

Walking up the steps to Gaz's place, Roach removed his hand from Ghost's and wiped his palm on the front of his jeans from the nerves. He contemplated praying to the almighty street light again that this night wouldn't end in homicide. Roach hesitated at the front door, his clenched fist rose up to rap on the wood, but he couldn't make his hand move, he froze.

Ghost stepped up next to him and waved his hand in front of Roach's face, a concerned look crossed his features. "Um, Bug, you gonna...knock?" Ghost asked, his eyes flicking from the covered cheesecake and back to Roach.

"What? Oh. Um. Yeah, I...just give me a minute." Roach took a deep breath and closed his eyes, he tapped his knuckle on the door three times and thought good and hard about grabbing Ghost's hand and running back home. But he stayed put and kept his eyes closed, not opening them or breathing until a whoosh of air was felt and the scent of cooked steak filled his nose.

It was weird not to hear Gaz's typical greeting to Ghost, the loud and obnoxious yelling of his full name, but Gaz knew that tonight called for carefulness, so he kept his welcome quiet. Or as quiet as it was possible for him.

"Hey mates! Come on in, now the party can really start." Gaz winked at Roach and waved a hand for them to enter through the front door. Ghost was oblivious to the entire display and appeared to be lured inside by the scent of potatoes and grilled meat.

Roach leaned in close to Gaz as Ghost brushed past them both and lifted his brows, a nagging concern filling his gut. "Soap?"

"Don't worry, mate, he's already downed two shots and is working on a lager, he's relaxed." Gaz gave Roach the 'OK' symbol with his fingers and once again winked as if that news wasn't troubling in the lease.

Roach's eyes all but bulged out of his skull. "Um, since when it is it a good idea for alcohol to be involved in these sort of interventions?"

"Soap is a happy drunk!" Gaz reminded him, memories of Soap slurring sexual remarks to Price while straddling the man filled the brunt of Roach's thoughts...unfortunately.

"But not when he sees Ghost. Oh God, this is gonna be a disaster. Let's just get this over with." Roach sighed and covered his face, pushing past a confused looking Gaz.

Gaz's quaint but comfortable house was filled with a mouth watering aroma that almost distracted Roach from the task at hand, but the sound a deep Scottish voice in the distance evaporated all those more pleasant and savory thoughts. Roach jogged down the entrance hall and entered the kitchen where Ghost already helped himself to a beer from Gaz's fridge, opening the can with one hand. A familiar, rumbling laughter from a familiar source caught his attention and stopped him mid-drink, he lowered the can slowly and turned his head in the direction of the living room. Before Roach could stop his boyfriend, he was already out of the kitchen and in the living room. Dammit, why did Gaz's house have to be so damn small coupled with Soap's broguish laughter that could be heard from miles away.

The yelling started right when Roach reached the doorway.

"What the fuck is he doing here?" Ghost shouted, crossing his arms over his chest and scowling at Soap who returned the gesture and sneer perfectly. Roach and Price exchanged a look of unease, though it was harder to read on Price's carefully molded expression. How could he possibly remain calm right now?

"Alright, who's fucking idea was all this, eh?" Soap shot a harsh look to Gaz, Roach, and settled on Price, waiting expectantly for there to be an explanation, his mouth pressed in a hard line, Ghost followed suit and glared at Price. Roach sucked in a breath, waiting for the moment that Price would throw him under the bus and pin the entire plan on him, which, to be fair, it was his idea from the start, but he wasn't looking forward to the moment Soap and Ghost found out. In his mind, Roach started to think of a laundry list of excuses to get himself out of the potentially unpleasant experience of being questioned ruthlessly by the infamous duo..Roach would never forget when they considered hiring on more help for 'RSASS and Shine' and the two of them escorted all the "F.N.B' (fucking new baristas) to the backroom (turned into a make-shift interrogation room) for hours...only to never follow through on hiring any of the twenty people that showed up. The only one they considered was a nice young lady who they said reminded them of Roach's little sister, the only problem was that she was one of the group of girls (and one guy) that ogled at Roach and Ghost making out daily (that's what Soap said anyways). Not really employment material at their fine establishment.

Price adjusted the hat on his head and shrugged, he didn't falter, instead he sent Soap a smile sweetened just enough for the younger man to relax his clenched fist. Holding his ground, Price cleared his throat. "Roach...and I discussed the plan last night. We're worried about you two being at each other's throats all the time, on edge. There's something wrong here and you and Ghost obviously need to sit down and have a heart to heart." Price's calm voice almost was enough to relax the blue what sized ball of tension in the room. Almost.

As if on cue, Gaz entered the room and stood next to Soap, clapping a hand his shoulder and looking about two seconds from laughing with the best sympathetic face a guy like him could pull off. "Mm, yeah, this is a 'inter-bro-vention'." Gaz added with a nod. So that was what this whole thing was called, Roach jotted the term down in his memory, hopefully he'd never have to bring it up again, but if he did, at least he knew what to call it.

Everything was turning into some kind of awful sitcom when Nikolai appeared from the bathroom resembling a miserable cat as he gazed around at everyone in the room, and asked with a confused tone. "Inter-bro..what? Da, I just came here for the alcohol and Roach told me there'd be an endless supply. God knows I need it right now." Nikolai said with a sad sigh, his shoulders slumped down, the frown on his face deepened. What was getting him so down? There wasn't time to ask at the moment, not with Soap and Ghost about to charge at each other's throats with deadly intentions.

"This is insane! We'd don't need a sodding intervention. We can go on with how things are." Ghost scoffed, regaining his defensive posture and avoiding staring at Soap.

No one bought Ghost's words for a second. Roach eyed Ghost closely. "Oh, so you're fine with never hanging out with your best friend again, Simon? You're ok with the fact that you two can barely be in the same room without being complete assholes to each other? You want that to keep going on forever? Hm?" Roach snapped, the past few weeks and the tension that surrounded the group of friends thanks to their arguing was exhausting at this point.

Ghost worked his bottom lip between his teeth, his face contorted in several different expressions ranging from annoyed to pained to perplexed and ready to walk out of the room. With a hand rubbing over his face and settled on his chin, he answered reluctantly. "I didn't say that exactly...I..."

That was all Roach needed to hear, his head turned to Soap's direction where Price stood directly beside him, a hand rested on the Scot's lower back. "And you Soap? You can't honestly tell me you wanna throw away an eight year friendship over a bunch of stupid shit?"

Soap ran his hand through his mohawk and shifted closer to Price, his words didn't come without a struggle. "...No."

Roach and Price gave each other a firm nod. "Then the two of you need to fix this. However long it takes, that's why there's food." Price informed everyone in the room of Roach's brilliant (once again, he never claimed that) plan while evading Soap's frustrated glare.

"And booze?" Nikolai chimed in hopefully, a finger raised in the air, his eyes shining in the florescent light of the ceiling fan's lamp. Never before had a person looked so eager to get wasted.

"No, Nikolai, that was for you." Price told him with a trademark soft smirk that appeared to be in attempt to comfort the obviously upset Russian.

Gaz stared longingly at the bottle of watermelon schnapps sitting on the coffee table, if you didn't know better you'd think he was gazing at his long lost love departing for some war, Price pursed his lips and breathed loudly out of his nose, clearly not shocked at the man's action.

"And for you, Gaz, for so kindly letting us use your house for this...inter-whatever-that-bloody-name-was." Price muttered with a roll of his eyes.

Gaz's demeanor dramatically changed from lost puppy to the happiest man on Earth. "Ah, thank you very much. Think I'll take this fine lady into the telly room. You coming, Nikolai? I heard there's a football game going on tonight. And I'm pulling for Scotland just for you, mate." Gaz grinned over at Soap while he retrieved the alcohol from the table and trotted to Nikolai, resting an arm around the sullen man's shoulders and leading him out of the room.

"Why not, let's go, my friend." Nikolai was heard as the pair made their exit, Gaz's enthusiastic voice echoing in the hallway as was the slapping noise, obviously he was attempting to comfort the man...or knock him out.

With the light heartedness of Gaz gone, the atmosphere was heavy with a heavy fog of awkward and nobody was willing to break the silence, shifting on their feet and avoiding Ghost walked over to Roach and leaned in close, speaking in a failed attempt of a hushed whisper.

"I'm not fucking talkin' to him, Bug, he's a complete git! I can't have a simple conversation without him getting pissy with me." Ghost breath hit Roach's face smelling strongly like beer and potatoes...when the hell did he find time to dig into food in the 5 seconds Roach wasn't in the kitchen? Then again, with Ghost, nothing should be surprising. When the man smelt food, he was motivated and would stop at nothing to get it.

"Yeah, I'm standing right here, Ghost." Soap mumbled, face blank, his blinking exaggerated.

Ghost's eyes widened as if he had a brilliant idea, he spun around and jabbed out a finger in Soap's direction.

"You know how we're gonna handle this?" Ghost snapped his fingers. "Arm wrestling. Bring it on, mate." Ghost moved to the kitchen table that looked wobbly and unstable at best, and sat down. He pushed the sleeve of his black shirt up above his bicep and rested his elbow in the surface, closing and opening his fist.

"Are you kidding me, Ghost, I bench double of what you do." Soap boasted, not impressed with the muscle on display.

"Keep talking MacTavish, you're going down.." Ghost clicked his tongue and wiggled his brows at Roach with a huge aura of confidence.

Price and Roach turned to stare wordlessly at each other, their mouths gaped open at the display and turn of events. How did this plan go from talking to arm wrestling? Blame it on the alcohol. Soap let out a humorless huff of laughter and brushed past Price, joining Ghost at the table. He pulled off his leather jacket and tossed it over to Price, who somehow caught it mid-shock. Removing the jacket revealed Soap in a white t-shirt, tight on his biceps that were visibly larger than Ghost's, but the dark haired Brit simply puffed his chest up and flexed, as if to make his toned arm bulge up higher. Needless to say, it still was dwarfed compared to Soap's. They didn't call him Mr. Muscles for nothing. Or that's what Gaz called him. If he wanted to get punched and feel the effects of said muscles.

"You're gonna regret this, Riley." Soap taunted, placing his own elbow on the table and lifting his forearm up, flexing the muscle, the veins protruded out. Roach could swear he saw Price giving Soap bedroom eyes at the movement. Great.

"Words are pointless when I'm here to bring the pain and humiliation with my fists."

"You just fucking make that up?"

"So what?"

"Such a bloody numpty, I swear..."

Price and Roach moved closer to the two men in order to get a better look. "This isn't exactly what we planned to happen.." Price said, crossing his arms and shooting Roach a apprehensive look crossed with arousal, reading; 'I don't know whether to fear that Soap will break Ghost's arm and Gaz's table, or throw him over the table and rip his pants off.' Roach really hated his mind sometimes.

Roach shrugged lightly. "Er, maybe it's just how they need to work it out?"

"Right...a trip to the hospital is exactly what will fix this." Price muttered sarcastically, adding something about _'amateur wrestling'_ under his breath.

"They both were really drunk that night, come on, Price, that was one time! And Ghost only had a _minor_ concussion."

"He claimed that he saw the pearly gates." Price said as if it explained everything.

"That's the name of the restaurant we went to for our first date."

Price was silent for a long period of time, long enough that Roach began to doubt his own words. "...Right."

Dropping the conversation that they'd clearly never reach an agreement on, they turned their attention back to Ghost and Soap. The two were already locked in a vice grip grasp, their arms trembling with effort as they tried to one up the other, not above name calling.

"Come on, Riley, you...know..you can't win this..." Soap grunted.

"Pft, 'ell I can't, ya wanker...Roach's kid sister could...kick your arse." Ghost gritted his teeth and put all effort into putting all his strength into shoving Soap's hand down, it only lowered a few minor centimeters.

"She actually might be able to, she told me she's taking MMA now last time we talked, top of her class." Roach announced proudly with a goofy smile. No one paid him any mind besides Price, who's head turned slowly over to Roach, raising a serious eyebrow and breaking the younger man out of his moment.

The quiet took over again, no more smack talking, no more backhanded comments, just the sound of the wood dangerously creaking and the struggled grunts both men made with the effort to get the other man's hand down. With a final hard push, Soap slammed Ghost's hand to the table with a loud thwack, making Roach jump and Price's other brow raise up to meet the other one.

"How in the hell?!" Ghost shouted, shaking his hand in front of him and grimacing.

"Remember that time your boyfriend almost fell out of that second story window when he was pissed out of his mind? Who caught him? That's right, I did. Can't help I'm blessed in the bicep department, unlike you." Soap bragged with a grin, pushing off the table and standing up. Price couldn't stop himself from smirking at Soap, and moving in to kiss the side of his face. Soap playfully flexed his muscle and gave Price a look that was far too dirty for Roach to stare too long at.

"Brag all you want, this didn't fix any bloody thing...I'm all out of ideas." Ghost said with a slight pout, his brows pulled down in miserable defeat. Roach moved behind him and brought his hands up to Ghost's shoulders, massaging them to ease him of the agony of defeat, he gave him his best boyish smile, the one that always ended up making Ghost crack his own smile. The edges of Ghost's mouth turned up mildly. A slight success.

"You two are going to do the one thing that got you into this mess in the first place. Talk. But this time, instead of it being a bunch of bollocks, you're going to work through whatever the actual issue is. Roach and I will leave you two to that." Price announced, pecking Soap quickly on the lips and nodding in the direction of the exit to Roach, who responded by pointing a finger at his own chest and raising his brows, mouthing the word 'Me?'. Price sighed and nodded. "Yes, lad, they need to work this out on their own. Clearly when we're around it becomes all about impressing us and seeing who's the 'alpha male'. Not the healthiest of resolutions."

"What?!" Soap and Ghost yelled in unison, Ghost's hands slapped on the table.

He had a point, Roach couldn't avoid that fact. "Price is right. Nothing is going to get better if you guys don't talk about it. We'll be back later." Roach affirmed, squeezing Ghost's shoulders one last time and bending down to give him a parting kiss before joining Price in the doorway, shooting Ghost a look of reassurance.

"And please, let's have this end as peacefully as possible. Soap, try not make Ghost almost die this time." Price urged with deadpan expression, just on the verge of pleading. With that, Price and Roach left the room, leaving Soap and Ghost staring at anything but the other.

The air wasn't as tense as before, perhaps Ghost's idea of an arm wrestling match wasn't the worst, it did muffle the tension...slightly. Soap picked at his scarred eyebrow and let out a woosh of air, settling back down in the chair across the still pouting Brit tapping his fingers on the mahogany table top.

"Are we actually gonna talk or just sit here in silence admiring Gaz's antiques?" Soap asked, fiddling with his dog tag. When his question was met with only more silence, his fist came down lightly on the table. "Never thought I'd see the day when you'd shut the hell up."

"There you go trying to bring me down again..." Ghost furrowed his brows and rolled his eyes.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Soap shot back defensively.

"You're always getting angry with me, never letting me have any fun, and you're way too uptight like something's bothering you lately and you're taking out on me instead of dealing with your own bollocks. You can't be my brother and my mother at the same time, mate." Ghost told Soap, brash and honest.

Now things became more clear to Soap. He certainly never expected Ghost to come out and say exactly what was wrong that damn fast. The quiet washed over them again as Soap mulled the words over in his head.

"So this is all my bloody fault? The way you're so intrusive with my personal life making your comments and smoking in the house when you know it's bad for Hellraiser's asthma?"

"Ok, that last one was a mistake. Happened once. Once. And the first? Please, mate, I've always been like this! You've just never been in a serious relationship since we've been friends so you haven't seen this side of me in the extreme."

"It's fucking irritating."

"Well so is your consistent grouchyness."

Soap sighed, frustrated and rubbed his forehead. "This is helping, spiting words back and forth at each other like this."

"Yeah, but I gave my reason, you haven't explained why you have a stick up your arse every time you're around me."

The procrastination may have reached its expiration date now. Days upon days of delaying telling Roach and Ghost about his plans to move in with Price were stressing him out, but the more he thought about it...there was something else behind it.

"I - I should be telling you and Roach this at the same time. But. I'm...moving out."

"...What? You're moving? Where?"

"Yes. You see, on our anniversary, Price asked me to move in with him. I said yes."

"Wait. You've been keeping this a secret for nearly two and half weeks? Are you shitting me? How does that explain the exceptional prick you've become? Shouldn't moving in with Price make you happier than Gaz after Yuri gave him that watermelon tattoo shaped like boobs on his arse?"

"I am happy. I am. Moving in with Price is all I've wanted for months. But...I feel guilty." Soap confessed with difficultly, simultaneously suppressing laughter at the thought of Gaz's ink.

"Guilty? About what?" Ghost asked, confused, his head twisted to the side.

"You don't have any family and I've always felt like your older brother, protective, I don't want you to think I'm..abandoning you like they did." Soap said softly.

Ghost's eyes flicked back to the table, his face neutral and impossible for Soap to read. Patience was never Soap's best trait so waiting for Ghost's response was edging on impossible.

Finally Ghost looked back up at Soap. "That's why you've been a sodding prick to me? Because you didn't want to hurt my feelings? Bloody hell that makes no sense..." Ghost asked, his face twisted into the wildest look of perplexity, his eyes flashed with amusement. The more Soap thought about it, the crazier it sounded.

"Ok, ya got me there, mate. It does sound a little weird." The two of them shared a hearty laugh; Soap's deep and rooted in his chest, rattling his ribs, Ghost's loud and boisterous in the previously silent room, his head thrown back. It was the first time in what seemed like forever that they were laughing together, not at the expense of the other person. It was just like old times. After the laughter died down, Soap shrugged and pursed his lips. "Guess I was so worried about how you'd react that I ended up acting like this so you'd maybe be happy I'm moving out instead of thinking I was leaving you and Roach behind for a new life. I don't know, it doesn't sound reasonable now that I say it out loud."

"You bloody git, when the hell do you ever make sense? It's like that time when we worked at that flower delivery shop and we mixed up the funeral arrangement and baby shower bouquet, then you had the brilliant idea of telling me to put on my skull mask and deliver it like I was the Grim Reaper and it was impending doom. Fuck...was that job number 20 we got fired from?"

"22, actually. And I think I was still drunk when I told you to do that. Lesson learned. Never deliver flowers under the influence of alcohol."

"Or work at an office."

"Ghost...that job failed because you ended up fucking every single one of our co-workers or their boyfriends and husbands...including the boss. Then, they somehow got the idea in their head that you and I were male prostitutes and another sodding job.,.gone like that."

"That job was terrible anyways, I couldn't wear my mask with a damn suit. But, hey! It all worked out in the end! We got to follow our dreams and open a badass coffee shop, we both meet the loves of our lives, and we're rolling in money and adoring fans. Life's pretty damn good." Ghost said with a wide, genuine grin that was infectious, Soap chuckled and smiled himself. Who would've guessed, Ghost was right...life was fucking fantastic.

"Yeah, you're right. Look, I'm sorry for being such a prick. But, uh, you're really not upset about me moving out?" Soap needed the confirmation to move on.

"Apology accepted, mate. And hell no, I'm not upset that you're moving out! You and Price need your private time and so do me and Bug. Besides, Mama MacTavish will never be too far from his children." Ghost teased, putting up his fist and waited for Soap to bump his own against it. Soap's mouth turned into a sideways grin as he lifted his fist and nudged it right into Ghost's. "Bros?"

"Bros for life, mate. Fucking hell, you're never gonna let me live down the fanny pack thing making me 'mama MacTavish', are you?" The deep seeded regret Soap felt for wearing that fanny pack to the amusement park one time haunted him to this day. He'd defend that he still got laid when he wore it, but that argument seemed pointless at the moment.

"Ha! Not a bloody chance, you wanker."

"Oh for fuck's sake..." Soap groaned, rubbing his palm over his face. "I want things to go back to the way they were before. You were always intrusive, sloppy, and a bit of a numpty arse, but maybe just cut it back a little bit when it comes to me and Price's love life, particularly on announcing it in public, at work, and I promise not to jump on your arse about every little thing?"

"You got yourself a deal. But...?" Ghost lifted his hand, waiting for more.

"And I promise to chill the fuck out now that I know you aren't absolutely heart broken and totally helpless around the house since I'm moving."

"Wait, what about Roach?"

"Roach, nah, I knew he'd be fine. It was just you I was worried about, what would you do without 'Mama MacTavish'?"

"Ok, it started as a joke, but now I think you're really enjoying that title a little too much, mate, it's creeping me out.." Ghost backed up in his chair and frowned bit.

Soap laughed at the outrageous face Ghost was making. "There is a thing called 'a sense of humor, Ghost..."

"Woah, hold the sodding phone, you found yours again? This is spectacular news! Shall we get our sexy bloody boyfriends and drink on it?" Ghost asked, moving his elbows back on the table.

"Hah, sounds good. Numpty." Soap said, stretching his arms above his head and placing his hands behind it.

"Love you too, Fuck twat."

"You too, ginky eejit."

"Barmy nutter."

"Scabby twally."

"What in bloomin' hell does that even mean?"

"It's what you are, you tosser. Look it up and your face will be right next to the words. Exact picture would be the morning after that wicked hangover when you realized you once again posted pictures of your arse on twitter." Soap's face started out grouchy, his brows pulled down as low as possible, but they quickly rose to near the middle of his forehead, a cheeky, all teeth smile on his face.

The opposite reaction happened with Ghost, his face turned white at the dreaded memory he'd never live down. Another reason Ghost would never be able to get another job. People don't exactly jump at the chance to hire a man that has his ass posted all over the internet...well, there was that strip club that sent him an offer. Roach flipped about that one though.

Ghost nodded his head with a grin, laughing at the insult and unpleasant memory, which was basically their way of speaking kindly to each other, then cupped his hands around his mouth. As a precaution, Soap plugged his ears and gave Ghost a nod. "Oi!" Ghost yelled loud enough to nearly shake the walls of the house. Soap shot a worried glance to the table that was already on the verge of collapsing.

From just outside the dining room, little to Ghost and Soap's knowledge, Price and Roach were already peeking in on their conversation. Roach didn't flinch when Ghost yelled for he was more than used to Ghost's loud and sometimes obnoxious tone. Price, surprisingly, jumped just a tad. Not that he'd admit it.

"See, I told you everything would get worked out..they're back to insulting each other like siblings again. Just like old times." Price said, patting Roach on the shoulder and smiling with a closed mouth at Soap, practically glowing. If Price was even capable of that sort of thing. He was.

Roach literally felt the weight of the world lift off his shoulders, suddenly he felt so light that he nearly tripped while standing still. Or that could have been the four shots of Gaz's watermelon booze and chugged beers. Whatever it was, Price steadied him and set him up right. Somehow, Price kept himself from drinking anything more than half a glass of whiskey. Which meant he had to be more nervous than he was letting on.

"We did good, huh, Price? We're fucking brilliant. Like, if we didn't do this, man, they'd never would have shut the fuck up and made up. We did good." Roach slurred despite his best effort to sound like a normal human being.

Price chuckled and tore his eyes away from scene of Soap and Ghost having an arm wrestling re-match, albeit a more friendly one, and nodded firmly. "Yep, lad, we did good."

Not even two heartbeats later, Roach, Price, Gaz, and Nikolai were in the dining room, the latter half wide eyed and concerned. Price appeared to be over looking Soap for any types of injuries, Soap gave him a serene smile to assure him that everything was OK. The smile was enough to lighten the load on Price's shoulders. He walked up behind Soap's chair and offered a hand to help him up, Soap felt that warmth in his chest at the sight. The hand that was his to hold when times were tough, when things were uncertain, or when you were just happy as you could possibly be. He clasped his hand in Price's and was lifted up and brought into an embrace, Price's face rested in the nook of Soap's neck, his mouth right by his ear.

"How is everything?" Price asked in his deep, raspy voice, making Soap shiver just the slightest.

"We're in the clear."

"Good." Price pressed a kiss to his ear lobe, then trailed it down his jaw and to his lips. "Knew you could patch things up. Always believed in you two. A little misunderstanding wouldn't break apart your friendship...or...brotherhood. Both."

When Price and Soap turned their glances to Ghost and Roach, they were met with Roach on Ghost's lap, full blown making out with him in plan view of everyone. Just like old times indeed.

Soap cleared his throat and turned in Price's arms, staying in the hold and resting his palm on the older man's back.

"Ah, little Sanderson there downed about half a bottle of watermelon schnapps back in the TV room, did his best cheerleader impersonation, then chugged about 3 beers. He's enter 'wild Roach' mode." Gaz explained almost scientifically. Booze and the affects of it are a science in his eyes.

"Da, and I thought I was the one who needed to get wasted tonight." Nikolai mumbled, swallowing down the remnants of his pint sized bottle of Vodka.

"What's wrong, mate?" Soap asked Nikolai, heavy concern lacing his voice.

"It's...Yuri..and why he isn't here tonight.. He had a date. More important than being here with me...or his friends. Вот дерьмо."

"Hold up, Yuri has a date? I thought that you two..." Soap started quietly, moving his hand to Price hip and rubbing gentle circles.

"So did I..." Price said under his breath.

Nikolai didn't hear anything and instead plopped on the couch with the bottle of vodka in his hands, frowning at the floor, his backwards cap fell down a touch and covered his eyes. He was a pathetic sight to say the least. Everyone, besides Ghost and Roach who were obviously more involved in other matters, stared at Nikolai until they heard loud, deep snoring coming from his mouth.

Roach tore his mouth away from Ghost and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and started breathlessly, "Glad you guys worked it all out, because we've got bigger problems heading our way..." A grimace flashed on his face as he stumbled off Ghost's lap. All attention was once on the young America who did his best to stand up without falling right back into Ghost's lap. Soap, Gaz, and Ghost look on questioningly, but Price already knew exactly where this was going and clenched his jaw. "It's Kingfish. The fucker's not finished with us." Roach's sentence was interrupted with a hiccup, Ghost patted firmly on his boyfriend's back to quell the twitch, though his hand stopped the moment the code-name 'Kingfish' was dropped.

"What?" A chorus of shouts filled the room, except from Nikolai, who despite the uproar, was still in deep sleep, his head resting again the back of the couch, his mouth wide open, loud grumbling snores falling from it. The bottle of vodka still in his hand dangling off the couch, somehow still held in a vice grip.

Almost as if the words finally hit his ears, Ghost spun Roach around and shook his shoulders lightly, his blue eyes boring deep into the younger man's bright green ones, wide and glossy. "Did that bastard hurt you, LoveBug? So help me I'll kick his fucking teeth in." Ghost asked urgently, his fingers prodded all along the side of Roach's face, feeling his noise, checking his eyes and under them, lifted his jaw up with a finger and examined. He was about to lift up Roach's shirt to check for injuries, but Roach stopped him with a hand. Apparently a part of him was still sober enough.

Soap clenched his own fist as well, the rising anger that was always brought on when Makarov's name was dropped bubbled to the surface. Price looked down at him, feeling the waves of tension rolling off Soap, and gave him a strangled smile, covering the tight fist with his hand.

"No, no. It was words. Only words. All I know is we need to all be getting along and sticking together, have each other's backs because Makarov sent a threat our way. One that tells me we're gonna need our friendships to make it through. Holy shit, are we living an episode of My Little Pony?" Roach snickered, losing all the seriousness in his voice.

"Roach, we're waiting, what did the muppet say?" Soap demanded, his jaw tightened and eyes blazing with a kind of fury only brought on by a certain man.

"He said, uh, that our little dream is coming to an end." Roach explained, feeling nauseated after the laughter died down.

"The coffee shop." Ghost said immediately, sharing a look with Soap, the two of them plotting violent things.

"...Goddamn I need some strawberry cheesecake. At least half of it." Soap grunted. Apparently planning revenge made Soap very hungry.

"Buggy, tell me everything that fucker did to you."

"Simon. I'll tell you later, I'm fine. Food first. I should eat or I'm gonna have the worst hangover ever." Roach batted Ghost's worried, searching hands away and craned his neck in the direction of the kitchen.

"Or fall out of a sodding window again with Soap being the only one strong and sober enough to catch you?" Ghost teased, distracting his own self from the mention of Makarov with the joke and the adorable pouty look Roach gave him in response. All the others in the room (apart from the passed out Nikolai) began chuckling at Roach's expense, Ghost and Soap being the loudest.

"Oh very funny, I'm still traumatized of two story windows, thank you very much." Roach grumbled, crossing his arms and shooting a glare at Ghost.

"Oh come on, LoveBug, it's just a joke. M'sorry." Ghost apologized sincerely, though still smirking slightly, and leaned over, kissing Roach on the cheek. "Now let's all go to the kitchen, I have a toast to make!" Ghost announced, all eyes in the room landed on Nikolai's loudly snoring form. "Er...all of us except for Nikolai." He corrected.

Gaz's small kitchen was cramped with everyone in it, but they managed to squeeze in nonetheless, a glass of whiskey (or watermelon schnapps) in their hands. Roach passed on the glass of booze and snatched up a bottle of beer instead, grinning sloppily at Gaz while he took it from his fridge. Soap pressed himself as close to Price as possible, a smile on his face that never left since his talk with Ghost, but it was different when directed at Price, softer, his eyes crinkling all the more on the edges, the warmth spread throughout and was infectious. Price couldn't keep his lips off of Soap's face, kissing his forehead, nose, each side of his mouth, then his lips, making it last a few sweet seconds...until was interrupted by both Ghost and Gaz clearing their throats.

"Can you two wait until after my toast before you go at it?" Ghost said, amusing him and Gaz...even Price. Soap rolled his eyes, but not with anger and waited for Ghost to continue, not before stealing one last kiss from Price, leaving him with a wide grin on his face, his hat almost flying off from the ferocity.

"Go on, Ghost." Soap said, he stopped himself from sticking out his tongue like a child, but did grin wickedly.

Ghost seemed to approve of the PDA display, grabbing Roach on the ass to signify this, Roach was too busy staring at the top of his beer can to notice. Gaz did, however as his face turned into a cringe as he downed half of his schnapps before the toast even began.

"To Soap and Price's new found privacy. Where they can fuck wherever they want without me and Buggy walking in on them! May they enjoy hours of kinky sex in their love nest. Congrats on moving in together, mates." Ghost walked over put an arm around both Soap and Price's shoulders, grinning at them and lifting his bottle of lager up and making effort not to laugh at the peeved face Soap was making. Price, on the other hand, was shaking his head and laughing.

"To Soap and Price!" Roach lifted his beer can in the air and brought it back down, taking a huge gulp of beer. Then the words made their way to his consciousness and the beer flew out of his mouth and all over his unfortunate victim, Gaz. "Wait. Soap is moving out!?"


End file.
